


Gotham Gets a Makeover

by pinklemonade273



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Damian Wayne Has Curly Hair, Damian Wayne-centric, Damian is 16, Damian stayed with the league, Gen, Torture, basically he fixes Gotham, he doesn’t know about daddy bats, i will make that an official tag even if it kills me, kills some villains, traumatized damian
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 13:49:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklemonade273/pseuds/pinklemonade273
Summary: “Give me a year. One year to clean up Gotham. If you still think it’s worth burning, then it will.”Featuring Ra’s and his latest plan to destroy Gotham. Damian gives the city a chance, and it needs a serious makeover from the inside out.
Relationships: Selina Kyle & Damian Wayne
Comments: 148
Kudos: 485





	1. Catwoman

It’s not snooping. It’s really not. If anyone asked, which no one ever would, Damian would tell them that it’s stealth practice. 

Ra’s wasn’t even hiding it. He was always talking about how dirty Gotham was, and he had tried to destroy it before. Batman always stops him. He always finds a way to end whatever plan Ra’s cooks up, and it’s almost tiring how the cycle keeps repeating. 

Damian isn’t sure why his family hasn’t killed Batman if he’s such a nuisance. Maybe it’s because Gotham isn’t as dirty with a Bat trying to wash away the stains. 

“Grandfather?” 

“Yes, Damian?”

“I have a proposition for you.” Ra’s didn’t look up when Damian entered the room but he looks up now. 

“And what is your proposition?” 

“Let me go to Gotham.” 

“And?”

“Give me a year. One year to clean up Gotham. If you still think it’s worth burning, then it will.” His grandfather doesn’t question how he knows about the plans to destroy Gotham. He just stares and ponders the idea. 

“What is your interest in Gotham?” 

“Killing an entire city is unnecessary.” Truthfully, Damian is just bored, and he’s never gotten to see a city full of vigilantes and the criminally insane. 

“Fine. What will you need?” Grandfather looks like he doesn’t trust Damian’s words, but he agrees to give him some funds for his mission. 

— - — - —

Two weeks later, he’s in Gotham with a credit card and a backpack. He breaks into an abandoned apartment and uses a blanket as his bed. 

When he wakes up it’s raining. He goes to the store for some supplies, but other than that he mainly stays indoors. 

He pulls out his files and rereads everything. For the last two weeks doing recon on Gotham’s night life. Damian never really needed to worry about the Bat clan, he sticks to his missions and for some reason he’s never had a mission concerning them. 

His first stop is going to be Catwoman. Damian would really appreciate an ally in Gotham and the best choices moral-wise were either Red Hood or Catwoman. The latter was less violent and not as worried about territory, so he figured she’d be most likely to help him. 

He double checks everything again and waits until sunset to go out. Selina Kyle shouldn’t leave her apartment as Catwoman for a few hours, so he dons his League uniform and his katana and stakes out her apartment. 

She crawls out of her window two hours later, and he follows her a few blocks before making his presence known by jumping onto the same roof as her. 

Catwoman spares him a single glance and then makes a run for it. She runs to the edge and jumps towards another building and then another, the whole time Damian chasing after her. 

For a split second, he understands. The buildings are built to close that it’s easy to have rooftop chases. She occasionally drops out of his vision but they’re both sprinting now, and he can feel the wind whipping past him. He feels the adrenaline, and he really does understand just a tiny bit why there’s so many masked villains and vigilantes in this city. 

She’s leading him away from her apartment, and after a while she jumps and lands into a roll and stops for him. “Not bad,” she says with a smirk. 

Damian doesn’t react to her words or the way her hips move as she walks. He’s more interested in the rush he felt from the chase than her over-sexualized outfit. He spares a thought about how often seduction actually works to get her out of bad situations. 

“I assume you’re going to either say something or fight me now.” They both know he wouldn’t have waited to fight, the same way they know the chase was just to see if he could keep up. 

“I have something for you,” he says. He hasn’t used his English in a while but he makes sure his words don’t have a trace of an accent to them. “A list.” Damian pulls out the papers. 

“And what’s on this list?” 

“Names and objects. You steal from bad people. I have a list of people that are exceptionally bad and have some valuable stolen property.” 

“Why are you giving me this?” 

“I want your help. I won’t be in town for long. The list is a peace offering.” 

“So you want to form an alliance?” 

“Yes. I give you good information, and you help me with a break in.” 

“Break into where?” 

“Arkham.” 

She pauses, as if waiting for him to say more. Damian supposes a short explanation is in order. 

“I want to kill the Joker.”


	2. Poison Ivy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Step two of Damian’s plan is to visit Poison Ivy.

Selina Kyle doesn’t murder unless it’s absolutely necessary, but last night she seemed pretty okay with the idea of helping Damian kill the Joker. She took the list and gave him a phone number to call her at later. 

Damian doesn’t mind waiting. He has all year. An important part of the plan is getting into Arkham, though, and while he could pull that off by himself, having a partner as skilled as Catwoman would make it easier. 

He’ll give her a few days to think it over and make sure his list is adequate. He’s made a lot of lists for a lot of people, and this next one is for Poison Ivy. 

He spends the day inside, studying Arkham’s security and past break outs and ins. When the sun goes down he heads towards Robinson Park. 

The park itself is strangely beautiful compared to the grittiness of Gotham’s streets. There were wildflowers of every kind and overgrown ferns. Pinks and oranges blending together with black centers to look as if they were eyes staring at him. The plants swayed and twisted to get a better view of him as he trudged on towards the center of the park. 

At some point Damian has to start climbing through thick vines that often try to tangle around his feet. He does his best to keep them off without actually hurting them, knowing that Ivy wouldn’t appreciate a scattering of dead plant limbs. Finally, the plants decide to simply pick him up. Damian flails around for only a few seconds before going limp and letting them carry him further in. They drop him to the ground in front of an unnaturally large tree, but they continue to creep up his arms and legs as he waits for Ivy. 

She appears out of seemingly nowhere, blending in with the greenery until she walks up to him. “Who are you?” 

“A friend.” 

She crosses her arms, “A friend with a sword?” 

“It would be an insult to enter you domain and pretend there’s no danger. You’re very powerful.” Damian hopes that compliments will make her willing to listen to him. 

“Okay, friend. Why have you chosen to come then?” 

“You’re an environmentalist, aren’t you? I realized I needed someone who cares about the earth as much as I do.” 

“Yes.” She uncrosses her arms and the vines seem to loosen just slightly, “I do care about the earth.” 

“Well then you can help me. I made a list of some places that have been through environmental disasters. I thought that you could use your powers to help them regrow into their natural state.” 

“Environmental disasters?” There’s a hint of worry in her voice, and Damian has to hold back a grin. 

“Wildfires. Oil spills. These places need you more than Gotham does.” 

“Oh.” The vines slip away and slink off into the trees. “Show me this list.” 

Damian pulls out the papers. Each one has a place and details about what happened there. “I brought something else too. It’s a plane ticket to Brazil, along with an alias to blend in with the humans. Batman shouldn’t be able to stop you from helping the earth.” 

She takes the items and starts to read through them. “Yes, yes. Why Brazil?” 

“There was a large fire recently. Much of the rainforest was destroyed. I want you to regrow what you can.” 

She looks back up at him. Ivy doesn’t seem too distrustful of him anymore, she’s far too obsessed with nature. “I can’t go on a plane.” 

“Why not?” He’s genuinely curious.

“An alias doesn’t stop people from seeing my green skin.” 

He smiles. “Oh that’s easy. Come on, I know a makeup store nearby.” 

— - — - —

He can’t imagine how they look. Poison Ivy and a ninja with a sword and backpack. She’s still reading through the papers and occasionally asking him questions. It’s pure luck that they don’t run into any vigilantes, but even then it’s not really a crime to dress up in funny outfits and buy makeup. 

“Okay, we’re here.” 

She doesn’t like what she sees. 

Apparently, neither does the store clerk because she chokes on her own spit when she sees them. “Uh-um, how may I help you?” she squeaks out. 

“Foundation. Concealer.” Damian says simply. The girl points to an aisle. “Also, don’t call the cops. We just want to buy some makeup.” He stares her down until she swallows and nods her head. Honestly, shouldn’t the people of Gotham be more used to this by now?

He and Ivy walk to the aisle and he decides on a pale foundation. Damian isn’t sure how warm tones will look on top of the green, so he goes for the cool side. He also picks out some tan colors too, just in case he’s totally wrong. “Do you want mascara too?” 

She isn’t sure but he goes ahead and buys mascara and lipgloss for her. The store clerk seems less scared by the time she rings up their items and they walk back outside. 

Now there’s a ninja strapped with a sword and backpack walking alongside Poison Ivy carrying a shopping bag of makeup. They walk together in silence and Damian leads her to a clothing store. He’s not really sure why so many stores are open this late. Well, it is Gotham.

They get a similar reaction from the guy running this store too, but he doesn’t call the police so it’s fine. Ivy puts on a mini fashion show and by the end of it even the other guy is helping them pick clothes. 

They decide on a gray dress with black stockings and boots. They layer it with black gloves, a tan trench coat, and a burgundy scarf. The only green skin in sight is her face, and they cover that with makeup while sitting outside on a bench. It’s not a perfect job, if you look too closely you can tell her skin has a green undertone to it, but it will fool the average on looker. 

Together, they hail a cab to take them to the airport. The driver must assume Damian is a cosplayer of some sort, or maybe cab drivers are more used to strangeness of this city. 

The flight will take off at about noon tomorrow, so Ivy is going to spend the night at the airport waiting. Damian won’t go inside with her in case he attracts too much attention. 

“You know you never told me your name.” 

“I know.” 

She doesn’t seem too perturbed by his answer, she just smiles and wishes him well. 

He leaves thinking he’s made a good acquaintance. Not really a friend, he doesn’t have those. Damian knows he really just manipulated her into doing what he wanted and then dressed her up like some sort of doll, but he truly does think she can use her powers for good. She’s just misguided for thinking that pulling little stunts and playing with Batman will let her reach any goals. 

If anything, Damian is absolutely sure he’s done the right thing. Gotham has one less “villain” and the world has someone doing good in it. 

The walk back to his apartment will take hours, but he doesn’t try to take a cab. He walks and thinks about how maybe this city has some potential after all.


	3. The Penguin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for torture and mentions of cannibalism. If you wanna skip this chapter, all you really need to know is that Damian tortures and kills Penguin.

Damian thinks a lot about Robinson Park. He’s not sure what will happen to it now that Ivy is gone. Best case scenario is that the park gets cleaned up and used properly, which is unlikely. He doesn’t even know if the plants there are still alive without Ivy’s presence. 

He really wants to check on the park, but he can’t. Batman somehow spoils all of Ra’s plans, and Damian doesn’t want Batman involved in his own yet. There’s no telling when people will realize Ivy is gone, so he is unable to return to the scene of the crime in case Batman has already gotten wind of the situation. 

Who is Damian kidding? Catwoman probably told Batman about him already. And speaking of Catwoman, he needs to call her, but he hasn’t bought a phone yet. 

He sets his worries aside for now and takes a trip into the city. He needs a phone, bleach, sedatives, maybe a laptop, and obviously some chains and rope. 

When Damian gets back to the apartment his paranoia comes back. There’s no telling what Catwoman told Batman. He doesn’t know enough about Batman’s surveillance either, so he could be on camera with Ivy last night. If the store clerks told anyone then they’ll obviously check those cameras too. Batman will probably track his credit card purchases, but that will only show that Damian has been buying supplies and has access to League funds. If Batman is worth his salt at all he would be able to tell from outfit alone that Damian is League personal, so that doesn’t really matter. 

He can’t stop thinking about what the Bat does or doesn’t know, and he ends up packing all his files and food into his bag without even noticing he’s doing so. Damian does a run through and makes sure to leave no evidence of himself before he leaves. 

The rest of the day is spent finding a new place. Somewhere with enough crime that no one bothers him about the screaming, but not so much crime that the Bats patrol it. He finds a nice run down building on the other side of town. Not too many people here, just some stragglers that will most likely mind their own business. 

It’s almost dark when he starts setting up. He puts the chains and bleach in the dirty bathroom and makes sure that the door in there can lock. 

The bedroom has an old mattress in it, but Damian would rather sleep on his blanket than the squeaky mattress full of stains and odor. He pulls out his blanket and sets an alarm on his newly acquired phone. He’s got a long night ahead of him, so he decides that he’ll need a few hours of sleep before he leaves. He falls asleep and dreams of blood filling the dirty bathtub. 

— - — - —

Damian has been watching the Penguin since midnight. He wasn’t sure when the optimal kidnapping time would be. He waits until nearly 4 am when the Penguin retires to his bed chambers. Damian wakes him up only to force a sedative down his throat. 

“Get up.”

The Penguin doesn’t appreciate the sword at his throat, but it’s hard to tell what’s happening when he’s so tired. 

“Get up or I’ll cut your fingers off.” 

That gets him moving, and it’s almost too easy to walk him back to the apartment. Penguin has a few deep cuts on his fingers by then, but he’s still intact and not screaming. All of the people they pass make sure to avoid them when they see Damian’s sword, and surprisingly no vigilantes arrive either. Damian did put a lot of effort into finding a vigilante-free zone, but he can’t help that think this wasn’t hard enough. 

He pushes the Penguin into the bathtub and locks the door behind them. “Take off your pants.” 

“What? I’m not doing that!” Damian starts to reach for his hand again, “No, no! Okay I’ll do it.” 

Too easy. Way too easy. Did someone follow them? 

Penguin takes off his pants, and Damian sets his katana down. He uses the chains to tie Penguin up, and it only takes Damian slamming Penguins head into the wall twice to make him stop fighting back. He should be pretty disoriented by now. The adrenaline combined with the sedative will make him crash soon, so Damian has to keep his heart pumping. 

“I want your bank information. Right now.” 

Penguin gives him a dubious look, “Oh and I’m just going to give that to you?” 

“You must not understand the situation you’re in. You are literally tied up and half naked. Your money or your life.” 

“No. I’m not letting you steal my money.” He says the word steal with a sneer, as if Damian is a common petty thief and doesn’t deserve any respect. 

“Oh well. I guess I can’t make you do it.” 

Penguin is still glaring at him like he’s scum while Damian pulls out the bleach.

“Are you thirsty? You look thirsty.” He opens the lid and takes a few strides to get to the bathtub. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that for you.” 

Penguin is yelling at Damian to get away from him, but Damian just leans over and holds Penguin’s nose closed as he lifts the bleach to his face. Penguin tries to hold his breath but eventually gasps for air, and Damian pours the bleach into his mouth until he swallows several gulps.

When Damian finally releases him Penguin is gasping for air and struggling to reach for his throat. “It burns, doesn’t it?” Damian grabs a knife from his boot and brings it to Penguin’s bare thigh. “If you’re hungry too, I can slice some skin off for you to eat.” He starts to cut into the skin despite the Penguin’s pleas.

“Stop! Stop, please! I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

Damian removes the knife. “That’s a good boy. I want the login information for your two largest accounts. The one with 6 million and the one with 4 million.” 

He uses his laptop to sign in and makes the Penguin watch as he donates all his money to local charities. There’s not much use left for the Penguin, and Damian doubts he can reform him, so he cuts a few of the man’s arteries and watches him bleed to death. The greedy never change, they just get hungrier. 

Damian packs his things in silence and walks back into the night. The people here avoid him even when he isn’t brandishing a katana, and Damian really does hope that when the body is found none of them will remember him too well. 

Everything was still too easy. He’s never been this worried before. It’s like this city feeds off of people’s flaws. Damian has always had enemies and always had to look over his shoulder, but something about Gotham makes him more paranoid than ever. It might be the presence of the Bat clan, but he hasn’t even seen one of them yet. 

The sun begins to rise, but it’s hard to see through the cloudy sky. Too easy, too easy. It only took a few hours to get rid of the Penguin and use his greed for good. It was almost no trouble at all, so why hadn’t anyone done it before Damian had?


	4. Two Eves Until Arkham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian finally calls Selina.

“Catwoman.” 

“Yes?” 

“Have you thought about my offer?” 

There’s a pause. “Yes. Meet me in the East End at 1 am. I’ll text you the address.” 

She hangs up, and seconds later Damian receives a text. He memorizes it, and lays the phone down. 

This feels like a trap. They need to talk in person, but there’s no guarantee that she hasn’t informed Batman about their proceedings yet. 

Damian ignores the clutter of thoughts in his head that won’t go away and keeps walking. He’s realized that he really needs a shower. It’s barely an inconvenience to sneak into a gym and use their showers. 

Afterwards, he goes to an ATM for some cash. He’s tired of feeling like Batman might pop up anytime he uses his card, and even though it hasn’t happened yet, it’s still a possibility. 

Today is a free day. He’s showered and has cash on him, and his plan can’t move forward until he talks to Catwoman, so Damian is going to see the city and become more familiar with its layout. 

The first place he goes is a cafe. He’s been living off of fruits and vegetables from a grocery store, and at this point Damian desperately wants something that contains carbs. 

He orders tea and a blueberry muffin, and sets up with his laptop at a table with a good view of all the exits. 

It was sunny for maybe an hour today, and that’s the most sun he’s gotten in Gotham since he arrived. He’s cold even with his hoodie on, but he’s not willing to wrap his blanket around himself in public. 

He focuses on watching the news on his laptop and tries to absorb warmth from his tea. Today, they’re announcing the next Wayne Gala. It’s on Halloween and it’s some sort of masquerade charity ball. Everyone donates a certain amount for tickets to the ball, and the person with the best costume gets to choose which charities will receive most of the donation money. 

What an inane way for rich people to dress up and show off their money. Despite this, everyone thinks it’s a great idea. Gothamites must be stupid. In a town full of insane criminals that dress up in costumes, these people think it’s smart to dress up in costumes and flaunt their wealth. 

Damian sighs and looks down at the tea in his hands. He notices the scars on his hands from his last punishment. Lately, Ra’s seems to be irritated. Even when Damian hasn’t done anything wrong, his Grandfather will become enraged at him and order punishments. The last one wasn’t too bad, 50 lashes to both of his hands. His hands are rough now, but they’ll be fine when Mother makes him drink more of the Pit’s water. 

Damian shoves away the memories of green liquid and takes a bite of his muffin. He’s thinking about seeing the Clocktower next. He likes the architecture and the gargoyles. 

— - — - —

Damian arrived at the East End at 11 pm. He probably should’ve come earlier than that, he had the free time after all. 

He can’t change that now. Damian found a good hiding spot and waited until jumped onto the roof at 12:45. Damian watched for a few minutes just to see if she would call anyone or set any traps. 

She doesn’t flinch when he steps out of the shadows, and he can’t help but respect her professionalism. 

She waits for him to speak, but when he doesn’t, she says, “Penguin went missing.” 

“How unfortunate.” 

“So did Ivy.” 

“Ivy is fine.” 

“But Penguin isn’t?” 

“He was exterminated.” 

“And where is Ivy?”

“She’s happy. Sent her somewhere where she can help the planet. Make a difference and all that.” 

“How do I know you’re not lying?” 

“I could show you Penguin’s body, but I won’t give away Ivy’s position.” 

For some reason she seems satisfied with that answer. “Your list checks out, by the way.” 

“I already knew that.” 

“What I’m saying is, I’ll help you. Joker isn’t a good man.” 

“No, he’s not. Did you tell the Bat about me?” Damian can’t stop thinking about it and has to ask. He needs to know if she’s talked to anyone about him. 

“Why would I tell him about something that’s between us? I don’t kiss and tell.” 

“Good. Are you free tomorrow at noon?” 

“Yes,” she quirks an eyebrow. 

“Meet me at Gotham Library. Civilian clothes.” 

She agrees and they both leave. Rooftops at night aren’t safe when there’s a family of Bats lurking in the darkness. 

— - — - —

The library is a pleasant surprise. It’s warm and clean, the opposite of Gotham. 

Damian secures a table with two seats in the corner. When Selina Kyle walks in he makes sure to establish eye contact with her. He doesn’t know how to be more obvious about his identity other than shouting her name. 

“What’s all this?” she asks as she sits down. He brought his laptop and a few of the files, and they’re all spread out on the table in neat stacks. 

“Information. Guards, prisoners, schedules, a map of Arkham. General things we’ll need.” 

She keeps staring at him, and he’s not entirely sure why. It’s her first time seeing him without cloth wrapped around his head, but she really needs to focus on the files. 

He opens the laptop and quickly types in the password before turning it towards her. “Live video feeds. I’ve watching long enough to figure out when they switch shifts. That’s probably the best time to enter.” 

She nods her head, “Seems like you have this all figured out. What do you need me for?”

“Everyone needs backup. You need to take out the guards in the security room. Make sure they don’t contact the authorities. I take out the guards on the main floors.” 

“What about the cameras?” 

“I already have some recorded tapes. You okay with crawling through vents?” 

He explains the entire operation in detail. She crawls in and takes out the main guards, plugs in his flash drive that’s already programmed to overload the system with his recordings. As slim as he keeps his figure, he’s not small enough for the vents, so once the recordings are in, she’ll open a nearby side entrance for him. He takes out the floor guards. She stays in the security room to make sure nothing goes awry. 

It’s not the best plan. There’s too much room for error, but he’ll take his chances. Selina just needs to do her part and bring a get-away vehicle, he’ll deal with most of the problems. 

“What if I need to contact you during the break in?” 

“Why would you need to? If the plan backfires, you should run. Use the vehicle for yourself.” Even if he gets caught, he’s the Demon Prince. He can get out of police custody or have the League pull some strings. Batman could show up, and Damian would still be overall okay in the long run. Damian has to hold back his shudder when he thinks of whatever punishment Ra’s would cook up for him though. 

Selina purses her lips. “I don’t like it. I may have something we can use. It’s back at my place, come on.” 

He gathers his things quickly and methodically as he wonders why she would let him into her apartment. He certainly wouldn’t let anyone into his, as bare as it currently is. 

— - — - —

Selina’s place is nice. It’s not upper class, even though she could afford it with her nightlife. 

It’s almost quaint. The couch cushions look soft and the kitchen is painted a light baby blue. He expected something else, but isn’t quite sure what. 

She leaves him in her living room for too long. He berates himself for not bringing bugs to plant until she comes back with two small devices in her hands. “These are some old Bat comms. He uses a different system now, and I may have swiped these from his recycling bin.” 

“Does he have any sort of access to these? Could he check activity on them?” 

“Doubtful. They’re basically small radios, they don’t store messages or info.” 

Damian stares at Selina, and she stares back. He’s considering the likelihood that Batman could track these or listen in, or that these aren’t even comms and they might shock and incapacitate him enough for Selina to get the jump on him. “Okay.” She’s trusted him, and he’s going to trust her. “I’ll hold onto them for now.” Or, at least, he’ll trust her as much as he can. 

She shrugs and lets the other one plop into his open hand. “So what day are we going to do it?” 

“Thursday, October 10th.” Today is Tuesday, which leaves little time for her to prepare. 

“Two days from now? Really?”

“Do you require more time?” 

She huffs, “No. Just didn’t expect you to be in such a rush.” 

“It’s not rushed. I’ve already thought it out. Why would we wait?” 

He doesn’t understand why she’s so opposed to getting it over with. Damian tries not to think about all the reasons she might want to push the date back. He doesn’t like the way his stomach churns as he considers the possibility of betrayal or sabotage. 

“I guess you’re right, Thursday it is. Time?”

“We can meet up here at 11 pm, go over the plan again, leave at midnight, and then we infiltrate as the second shift guards go home.” 

Damian doesn’t stay any longer than he has to. He’s out of place here. He doesn’t belong in someone’s home, most of the time he doesn’t even belong in his own. Damian isn’t meant for a demon throne or Selina’s soft couch cushions. He’s meant for empty rooms and bloody bathtubs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is gonna be up pretty soon. I just need to add some finishing touches, and then I’ll probably post it later tonight. 
> 
> I may be two whole weeks behind on my online school work, but hey, what is my gpa compared to my fanfic.


	5. Arkham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian and Selina break into Arkham.

Damian isn’t nervous. His fingers won’t stop shaking and he feels a vague sense of nausea despite not eating anything today, but he’s not nervous. If anything, he’s excited. He’s so excited that he wants to sink his nails into his skin. 

Except Damian isn’t alone, so he occupies his hands with checking his pockets. He’s got his lucky coin, his knife, katana, a syringe filled with fear toxin. All of the things a good assassin needs. 

Catwoman and Damian are hiding in the shadows and watching as the second shift workers walk to their cars. “Ready?” Catwoman whispers.

“Yes.” They both put their comms into their ears, and Catwoman keeps away from the lights as she climbs towards and then into an exposed air vent. 

Damian listens to the sounds of her crawling through the vents and then whatever quip she makes just before scuffling with the guards in the security room. Damian is silent through the whole thing, ignoring the churning in the pit of his stomach as he waits in the dark. 

She tells him when she’s plugged in the drive and when she’s on her way to him. Catwoman opens the side entrance for him with her arms crossed and a sly smirk on her face. “Not bad work considering this is supposed to be maximum security.” 

This is definitely not maximum security, though it really should be. Damian gives her a fake grin even though it’s hard to see through his headscarf. Her smirk grows into something more sincere, which makes sense. He hasn’t smiled at her once during the entire course of their alliance. Damian decides that he’ll smile at her when this is over. He hasn’t genuinely smiled at anyone in a long time, but even a fake smile could serve as a positive reinforcement for their coalition. It will improve their bond somewhat. 

Catwoman holds the door open as he walks in. She hands him the keys she took from a guard and he nods at her before they part ways again. 

He goes for the Joker first. Maybe if Damian was more dramatic he would save the man for last, but thinking with that sort of mindset is what let’s Joker get away so often. 

Of course he passes a good few guards on the way, but none of them are trained enough to fight an al Ghul. It takes some simple kicks, punches, and dodges to knock them to the floor. He doesn’t even break a sweat, he just keeps walking by. Another guard, further down the hallway, manages to get his gun out, but Damian rolls out of the bullet’s path and gets close enough to swipe at the man’s feet and bring him to the floor. Damian doesn’t waste time and bashes the guy’s head into the ground twice before moving on. 

The Joker is sleeping when Damian gets there. He looks thin and unthreatening. His hair is tinged green and his skin is so pale it’s almost white, but it’s not like in the photos or videos Damian has seen. Joker usually enhances his strange look with makeup, but now he seems almost normal if you ignore the faint scars and odd coloring. 

Damian doesn’t make a sound even as he enters the cell with a key. It’s almost tranquil when in one swift motion, Damian yanks the man up and slits his throat. 

He maneuvered the man to face the camera instead of Damian, but the cameras were shut off minutes ago. He mostly just didn’t want the blood to get all over his clothes. 

Joker would’ve loved to make his death a big show, so it was the opposite. Short and sweet. 

Damian drops the body to the floor and walks down the hall. 

He didn’t tell Catwoman that he was going to kill more people than just the Joker, but it can’t be much of a surprise. At the very least, he hasn’t and won’t kill any guards, because the guards don’t relentlessly kill citizens of Gotham for fun. 

He enters the cell of Two-Face. The man is awake, but is obviously surprised when he sees Damian. “Who are you?” 

“Depends.” 

“On?”

“Well, a flip of a coin, of course. That’s your whole thing. Flip a coin to decide fate.” 

“They took my coin away.” 

“Don’t worry, I brought one with me.” Damian fishes the coin out of one of his pockets. “So I was thinking: Heads, I kill you. Tails, I’ll let you out.” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“Because I’m like you. I believe in fate. And tonight, you are either fated to die or to live another day.” 

It makes sense to Two-Face, the way Damian knew it would. Mad men all have something driving their madness, and this is it for Two-Face. His obsession with being half good and half bad, becoming two-sided just like a coin, it’s all gone to his head. 

The man nods his head in agreement, so Damian flips his coin. He snatches it out of the air and presses it against his other hand. 

He keeps the coin covered as Two-Face leans in as far as he can to try to see the big reveal. Damian doesn’t even look at it as he lets go. He just grabs his knife as both sides of the man’s face falls and throws it straight into his chest. Damian’s other hand didn’t even drop the double headed coin. 

Two-Face always talked about fate, yet he used a double headed coin just like Damian had. Fate never decided anything, just a man using tricks and excuses. 

Damian retrieves the knife before heading to the last cell of the night. 

Scarecrow isn’t asleep either when Damian strolls silently into his room. Damian doubts the man ever gets much sleep. 

Neither of them say a word as Damian unlocks the cell. Scarecrow walks forward, thinking another villain or fan is letting him out for whatever reasons, but as soon as he gets past Damian, the teenager stabs him in the thigh with a syringe. 

Scarecrow starts to fall and tries to catch himself, but Damian has already pressed down on the syringe. He’s convulsing by the time he hits the floor. 

Damian uses the cell bars to hop over and around the man and abandons the room filled with screams. 

“Time to go.” He says out loud to the comm in his ear. She never said a word throughout the entire ordeal, not even when he strayed from the original plan of killing the Joker and then leaving. Damian is glad she didn’t bother him. He doesn’t like to worry about menial conversation when he could focus on a mission instead. 

“Race you there,” she says, and he doesn’t question the weird note in her voice. He simply runs as fast as he can despite knowing that she’ll win since she was closer to the get away vehicle. 

They get in the car and speed off, and it’s quiet for a few moments before she speaks, “What if it had landed on tails?” 

He stares out the window a little longer until finally he says, “I never said it didn’t.” 

They don’t talk for the rest of the drive. Damian has grown to like keeping secrets. Small details that no one but him knows about. They’re the only thing he gets to keep. Objects and people aren’t permanent, Goliath will die and Talia will leave, but he’ll always have his secrets. Some people take their secrets to grave, Damian brings them with him for safekeeping. 

They ditch the car with the keys inside, so it won’t be long before someone decides to take it for a spin. If anyone woke up in time to see their car, the authorizes will be on a wild goose chase. 

Both of them change into civilian clothes under some stairs in an alleyway. He understands that leather takes a while to peel off, so he patiently waits to the side for her to finish. 

He briefly considers watching her get dressed. It’s not the safest thing to take your eyes off of someone in the business of stealing, and it’s not like seeing a female body really fazes him. Damian decides not to anyway, because their job is done and she has no reason to pull something right now. It’s his own small show of faith that she’s not even aware of. 

“Do you own any clothes other than that hoodie and pair of jeans?” 

He looks down. “Yes, but I didn’t bring them with me.” 

“Ah. Are you going to leave Gotham now?” 

“No. There’s more to do.” 

She’s dressed now and walking in front of him, so he follows her out onto the streets. “Well let’s see. You got rid of Ivy, killed Joker, Two-Face, did something to Scarecrow. Who else is on the list?” 

“Scarecrow will be dead in a matter of hours. Even if the medics arrived as soon as we left, they wouldn’t be able to stop the drugs.” He hates talking about this in public, but no one is close enough to hear their low voices.

“So what’s the point?”

He peers over at her face. “What do you mean?” 

“Why are you doing this? At first, I thought you had something against Joker, but you’ve done more than just go for him. So why?” 

Damian isn’t sure what to say to that. No one ever asks about his motivations, not unless they’re Ra’s trying to find something worth punishing. Well, not many people talk to Damian in general. His family, his enemies, the people he kills. They talk to him, but they don’t have conversations with him. “Gotham is dirty.” 

A pause. “That’s it?” 

“Do I need more? Gotham is dirty, and I took action to clean it up.” He can hear the defensiveness in his voice and tries to calm down. “It’s just, it needed help, so I’m trying to help it.” 

“But what’s in it for you?” 

He offers a small smile to her, “A vacation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lmao I just had a small breakdown. I really need online school to be over, I dont know if I can keep doing this shit. 
> 
> Plus my mom keeps interroyelling at me. It’s a combination of trying to ask me about my interests and friends and then halfway through getting mad and yelling at me.


	6. Honestly, Mostly Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of this is just more shopping and Selina being hella worried about Damian.

The newspapers are having less of a field day and more of a field week. 

First there was the Arkham Killer. Guards reported that the two perpetrators—Catwoman and a man dressed as a ninja—broke in and killed Scarecrow, Two-Face and the Joker. People argued over whether he was an assassin or a vigilante, if what he did was wrong or right, etc. 

After that, a homeless person found the Penguin’s decaying body in a bathtub filled with blood stains. Arkham Killer Strikes Again? and Penguin found dead struck the headlines just days after the Arkham incident. 

Damian read the papers with apathy. He couldn’t let himself care about any of the stories or headlines. The mission was more important than any of his feelings on the matter. 

He threw the paper away as he walked and soon arrived at Selina’s apartment. Damian kept his hood up and knocked twice on her door. 

Selina opened the door with a smirk—she loved doing that—and let him in. “Good morning.” 

He gave her a small nod at the greeting, “What did you need?” She sent him a text roughly twenty minutes ago asking him to come over. 

“Wow, not even a ‘Good morning, beautiful.’” 

“Good morning, beautiful. What did you need?” Damian says, monotone as ever. 

Selina huffs out a laugh that sounds more like an exhale. “It’s been a few days now. I want to know the next part of the plan.” 

She’s led him to her kitchen and is now gesturing for him to sit. Damian tells himself that it’s not at all suspicious that she wants more intel. Of course she wants more intel, he’s been keeping her in the dark. “All I need from you is help finding Riddler and Harley.”

She’s facing away from him, mixing batter in a bowl, but she stops and looks at him. “We’re not killing Harley.” 

“No, were not. She’s not criminally insane.”

The tension in her body seems to release at this, “And Riddler?”

“He is criminally insane.” 

She’s turning on the oven now and pulling out a pan, “What’s your definition of criminally insane?”

“They won’t stop committing crimes. Harley can be changed, you could stop if you wanted, and Ivy cares more for plants than crime.” 

He briefly wonders if he’s allowed to touch the table but resists putting his arms down on it. Straight-backed and head held high, but not touching anything he doesn’t have to. 

Selina hums, “And Batman?”

“I don’t care much about him. His crime is in the interest of helping others. I will talk to him, though.” 

“Pancakes?” 

There’s no way she could’ve poisoned the food, he watched her make it and she’s going to be eating from the same batter as him. 

Damian doesn’t know what she wants. Most likely, he should say yes to the food. They’re allies, and allies can trust each other to prepare food. But what if this isn’t about alliances? Talia only offers food when he’s being punished, she wants him to refuse the food to show that he can handle being starved. 

If he let himself show reactions, his eyebrows would be furrowed right now, but Selina must get tired of waiting for a response. She shoves a plate in front of him and plops two pancakes onto it. 

He definitely isn’t relieved that she made the choice for him. 

“So I was thinking,” she settles into her seat and pours maple syrup over her pancakes, “the Wayne gala thing is coming up.” 

Damian waits until she takes her first bite to begin eating. She wouldn’t poison or drug herself to get to him, even though it’s happened before. 

“Okay.” 

“We should go.” 

“You can go.” Again, he doesn’t let any confusion show on his features. 

“What I’m saying is, it’s a gala. On Halloween. People wearing costumes and masks,” she passes the orange juice to him. “Someone is gonna pull something.” 

“Too obvious.” 

She snorts, “That’s never stopped anyone in the past.” 

“Not for them, for us. Catwoman and an unknown male just broke into Arkham. Selina Kyle and an unknown male aren’t going to show up at a gala together. Especially when it’s Bruce Wayne’s gala.” 

“Oh, so you know.” 

Damian doesn’t even deign to reply to that. Batman’s identity is basically common knowledge at this point, only a fool wouldn’t realize who he was. 

“Okay, I see your point. But him and his birdies realizing who you are doesn’t mean they’re gonna attack you.” 

“I would be giving myself away.” 

“It’s the next big event though. If any villains are plotting anything, they’re plotting it for that night.” 

The possibility that a villain will show up is high, but Damian doesn’t want to meet Batman. Batman has beaten the League over and over, so excuse Damian if he doesn’t want to deal with that this early into his yearlong stay. 

“For now, it’s a maybe. I’ll need to do recon on the people going, the caterers, most likely villains to show up.” He’s already running it through his head. Harley is a bit of a curveball so soon after Joker’s death. People rarely react to death the way Damian expects them to. 

“And quick question. I need a name to call you.” 

Oh. He already knew her name, and he never really introduced himself. “Andrew.” 

“Was that the first thing that popped into your head?” 

“It sounds American enough, which is all that matters.” 

“And for a last name?” 

“Kyle, of course. If anyone asks, I’m your nephew.” 

She’s grinning now. “I like that. Andrew Kyle.” He’s not sure if this is supposed to be a good moment or not. She keeps grinning at him, though, so he grins back. It must look genuine, because she seems happy with his response. 

“Are you going to finish those?” Her plate is empty, whilst Damian’s is still full of pancakes. He only ate a few bites, still not sure what she gained from giving him food. 

The plate slides forward with a push of his hand. “If we’re going to the gala, we’ll need an actual invitation. I assume you have one already.” 

“Yep. Perks of sleeping with the richest guy in town.” 

She’s not wrong. “Has he asked you about me yet?” 

“Yeah, he came over a little while after I got back that night.” 

“What did he say?” 

“The usual. You’re not a killer, who are you working with, the League of Shadows is dangerous, yadda yadda.” 

His hands are sweating, and Selina is taking her precious time to tell him what happened. Just talking about Batman gets him antsy, knowing he’s on his trail.

“So I told him that I hadn’t seen your face yet, and that you only said you were going to kill the Joker. Which by the way, was very rude of you. You could’ve warned me you were going to murder two other people.” 

“You don’t injure or kill unless you have to. I wasn’t sure what you would agree to, so I kept it simple.” 

Selina washes the plates and then turns towards him, leaning against the countertop with her arms crossed. “No more lies, though, okay?” 

“There is no reason to lie now.” Logic is useful for getting people to believe you. In the world of liars and back stabbers, it’s better to rely on rationality. “We are working as a team.” 

She appears to be swayed by his words. He isn’t sure why she holds so much faith in him, maybe it’s because of his age. In the past, many have underestimated him due to his youth. They either think he’s too young for the job or that he’s an innocent child. Most of those people are dead now.

“Okay.” Selina looks him up and down, “So I know you don’t have any other clothes, but have you considered that you can’t wear that stuff to a formal dance?” 

Damian frowns. “I guess it is time for some new clothes.” Despite what Selina might think, he has changed outfits a few times. He’ll enter a store just to leave in a different outfit, but he hasn’t thought about wardrobe too often outside of that. 

She gives him one of those weird smiles again. Fond. 

He desperately wants her to stop doing that. It reminds him of his mother on her good days, but Talia hasn’t had a good day in a long time. With every dip into the Pits she becomes a little more like Grandfather. She wants to control the entire world or maybe destroy it. No matter how often Damian gets brought back, he doesn’t want any of that. He prefers those smiles instead. 

“Come on, kid. We’ve got some shopping to do.” 

— - — - —

Damian has never really gone shopping outside of Gotham. There’s never been a need to. Servants bring him what he needs when he needs it. 

Here, though, he’s gone on two whole shopping trips. As he understands it, shopping alone doesn’t count. Neither do his visits to the grocery store. 

Shopping trips are like what he did with Ivy. Trying on clothes and talking about boys or something. 

Selina explains it better than him. He tries his best to listen to her, but it sounds stupid. Damian just needs a suit and a mask for the party. 

“I’m thinking we should go blue. How weird is it for an aunt and nephew to wear matching outfits? Nevermind, that doesn’t matter.” 

At some point she realized how much he doesn’t talk and started taking up the slack for him. 

“We might actually pull off the whole being related thing. Green eyes, black curly hair, multi-ethnic. Maybe we should go green instead.” 

“Pink.” 

“Hmm?”

“Light pink. Would look good on both of us.” 

She looks at him for a moment, “You might be right. I didn’t know you had any sense of fashion.” 

“It’s just color scheme. I like to draw.” Damian looks away and subtly digs his nails into his palm until he feels his blush go away. 

He shouldn’t have said that. Shouldn’t have given any information about himself away. But Selina was making amiable conversation, and he felt inclined to keep it going. Fool. 

“Really? Are you any good?” 

“Yes.” 

She laughs, because most people would feign modesty, but he’s not most people. “You should let me see your drawings sometime.” 

“I didn’t bring any with me.” 

Another look. He was comfortable with their conversation until he slipped up, and now she keeps glancing at him. When he digs his nails harder into his skin, he makes sure his arm is out of view. A slip of the tongue is bad, but letting people see your ticks is worse. 

“We can get a sketchbook or something if you want.” 

He doesn’t say anything, so after a while she continues talking about dresses and jewelry. Damian eventually releases his fist and checks to make sure there’s no blood. 

Selina decides takes his advice and goes with the color pink at the tailor shop. He’s no stranger to being fitted for clothes, so it doesn’t bother him when the workers take his measurements. Selina tells them what she wants for both of their outfits and fills out all the billing and mailing forms. 

He figured this would be it, get a tailor to make their clothes and go, but after that she drags him into some clothing stores. 

Damian doesn’t like it. 

When Ivy put on outfits she strutted out and pretended to be some sort of model, but Damian is no model. He feels like a doll, a plaything for people to dress up. Selina makes him try on clothes ranging from raincoats to crop tops. 

“No.” 

“But you look so cute!” 

“No.” 

“It’s not that bad.” 

“Yes it is. This is a waste of time.” 

She gives him an affronted look paired with an exaggerated gasp, “Clothes are not a waste of time.” 

He resists the urge to tug the bottom of the shirt lower, because that won’t work and it will only give away his discomfort. “Selina.” Damian stares her down, trying to use his eyes to communicate that he doesn’t want this. 

“Fine. If you don’t wanna look cute, then you don’t have to.”

Damian is not cute. Monsters aren’t cute. 

He steps back into the dressing room and trades the crop top for a green sweater. “How is this one?” he asks her as he steps back out. 

She holds up a finger and moves her hand in a circular motion, so he slowly turns two times. 

“I like it. Matches your eyes.” 

“But it’s not conspicuous?” 

She rolls her eyes. “No, it’s a solid sweater. But you know people are going to look at you either way.” 

“What do you mean?” The sleeves are long enough that he can pull them to his finger tips, but he lets them bunch up at his wrists instead. He doesn’t need any more comments from Selina about him being cute or adorable. 

“You’re handsome, duh.”

“Irrelevant. Looks are not as important as everyone thinks they are. They’re only good for seducing targets.” 

With a snort, Selina replies, “Do you have any targets to seduce at the gala?” 

“No. That’s not the mission.”

Selina pauses as she goes through some coat racks. “Hey, you’re not serious are you?” 

“About?”

“The whole seducing thing? You barely pass as an adult.” 

“Yes, but seduction is an easy enough task. Doubtful that they would even ask how old I am.” 

She turns to face him directly. “Andrew. Don’t sleep with people for a mission or to get a target.” 

“Why not?” 

“You should find someone your own age that you like. It’s not worth it to lose your virginity to a random person you barely know.” 

“Okay,” he says. Damian doesn’t want to tell her that he already completed his seduction training a few years ago. He really does appreciate her concern, though. “I won’t.” 

Earlier that day she told him no more lying. He almost feels bad. Almost. 

It takes a while for her to be satisfied that he has enough clothes. Selina makes him carry all the bags, but he supposes that might be customary since she is the one buying them for him. “Do you want to get some food?” 

“I already ate.” 

“Um, you ate half a pancake this morning.” 

“Yes. You offered me pancakes, and I ate some.”

“And now I’m offering more food.” 

She keeps doing strange things. He just wants to go home and sit in silence. 

Damian hasn’t spent this much time with a person in months, and everything is so much easier when people want him to exist somewhere else. He can just tuck into himself and make plans. 

Planning is nice. It’s his favorite torture resistance tactic. How he’ll fix Gotham, how he would escape prison, what he’ll do when Talia inevitably overthrows Ra’s. 

He’ll also be able to draw when he gets home. Selina bought him a sketchbook and some colored pencils to work with. Still, Damian knows he’ll spend a few hours of free time staring at the wall as he thinks about what to do next. 

“I decline. I have work to do.” 

“In the middle of the day? Doubt it. What are you in the mood for?” 

“I am going home. This was fun.” At least, he thinks it was fun. Selina had fun, and sometimes Damian didn’t have to force his smile completely. So yeah, it was nice. 

She frowns. “Okay.” 

“Will you do something for me?” 

“What do you need?” 

“Find some kid on the streets near where they found Penguin. Pay them to tell the police they saw the ninja man the night Penguin died and that he had blond hair and a scar on his cheek.” 

“And who exactly are we pinning these crimes on?” 

“No one. Doesn’t matter as long as he doesn’t look like me.” It might not work. Batman will see him at the gala and could figure that the blond guy is a ruse. 

“Sure, kid. I’ll text you when the stuff arrives.” 

Damian gets home and piles the bags in the corner. It wasn’t such a bad idea to get clothes, he’ll need things to wear for the rest of the year. It’s getting colder too, and there’s a high chance of snow soon. 

He lays down on his blanket and stares up at the ceiling until it the sun goes down. It’s probably not healthy to lay on the floor for long periods of time, but Damian is exhausted. 

Even though Selina did a lot of the talking for him, he still had to chime in occasionally. Not to mention that she wanted him to eat more, which is just odd. One meal a day is sustainable and doesn’t waste food. Selina would never survive in harsh conditions with a lifestyle like that.

He manages to get up for a while and do a small amount of hacking to obtain the gala guest list, but at some point he passes out. 

Damian will spend the next day working out and researching and planning, but for now, he’ll sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I managed to get some of my school work done? It’s all thanks to the people who send me the answers tbh, they’re the real heroes. 
> 
> Also, people keep inviting me places? Like wth. Idc if it’s your birthday brosky, it’s also quarantine.


	7. Wayne Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian pays Wayne Tower a visit.

Damian quadruple checked each folder, and since there are three folders, that’s twelve read throughs. He may be going overboard, but he’s nothing if not dedicated. 

Besides, these folders are arguably the most important part of his plan. Even more important than killing the Joker. 

Each folder is the same, down to every little note Damian added. One for Bruce Wayne, one for Lucius Fox, and one for Tim Drake. 

The original plan was to send a single folder to Bruce Wayne, but the man is famous for his stubbornness. Damian could’ve sent the folder, and Batman may have been too prideful or arrogant to admit that what’s in the folder is right. Batman would be the type of person to ignore it just because it proves him wrong, even though the folder could help people. 

Hence the revision to the plan. The folder is mainly about finance, so to ensure that Batman at least considers it, he sent it to the two other people with financial power over Wayne Industries. If Damian was a bit more cocky, he would send the folder to each and every person in the Bat clan, just to prove his point. 

The folder is simply the Batman’s super secret, totally confidential not-at-all-hard-to-find bank records. Gotham’s Dark Knight spends an exuberant amount of money on things like Batmobiles and jets and weaponry. Bruce Wayne spends millions of dollars on his night life hobby without considering what he could do with that money instead.

After the highlighted list of bank records, are some retail opportunities. No less than five (5) warehouses that are near low income neighborhoods. These warehouses are some of the better ones that need minimal construction and renovations. Damian included a list of Wayne Industries interests and how they could turn these warehouses into factories to make things like furniture or children’s toys. Many of the people in those low income neighborhoods could use a nice job, and Wayne Industries has the money (and hopefully the moral ethics) to start a few factories and pay the people that work there well. Damian may goes a little too in depth here, just to make sure that Bruce Wayne understands that he has the money to provide jobs in this city. More jobs equals better economy equals less crime. 

There’s also some run down apartment buildings that could be turned into motels or low budget housing. Again, Wayne has the money to make this happen. With more jobs and better low cost living conditions, Gotham could greatly improve. The more people who have stable jobs and places to live, the less people have to steal to survive or life on the streets. 

Just to be thorough, Damian added some homeless shelters in the mix. It wouldn’t be hard for the Wayne Foundation to set up and run a few soup kitchens to provide relief to the large amount of homeless in the city. 

This plan will clearly help Gotham, but still Damian couldn’t be sure if Bruce Wayne would simply ignore it. It details how the funds being spent on Batman could be better used instead, how maybe dressing up as a bat every night doesn’t provide nearly enough assistance that the city really needs. 

That night, Damian breaks into Wayne Tower. He leaves the folders on each person’s respective desk. It’s a little risky, someone could open it and realize who Batman is, but honestly Damian doesn’t care about that. With all his excessive money spending, he almost deserves a dent in his pockets to pay off someone’s silence. 

Damian can’t help but think this is child’s work as he leaves, which is exactly when he gets caught. 

Well, almost gets caught. He was going to escape via Wayne Tower’s rooftop, but when he arrives, there’s someone up there. 

And of course it’s a vigilante. 

With Catwoman. 

Damian may have forgotten to invite Catwoman to his little excursion, so it’s somewhat of a surprise when he finds her with Nightwing, who is supposed to be in Blüdhaven. And what’s more, they’re talking about Damian.

As soon as he caught sight of them, Damian slipped into the shadows. Nightwing must not have seen him, but he isn’t sure if Catwoman saw. 

“You can’t be serious! You’re working with a killer.” 

“I’ve worked with killers before, it hasn’t bothered the Bats until now.” 

Damian’s view is blocked, but he can see Selina crouched on the ledge of the building and Nightwing standing with his escrima sticks lax in his hands. 

“You know he probably killed Ivy too, right?” 

“What are you talking about? What happened to Ivy?” 

“She was gone. Robinson Park was abandoned.” 

“Ivy could’ve skipped town, that doesn’t mean she’s dead.” 

“You really believe that? Ivy disappears the same time that this guy shows up and murders a bunch of Gotham criminals, and it’s just a coincidence?”

“Do you actually think I would be working with him if I didn’t trust him? He wouldn’t kill Ivy without telling me first.” 

“Of course he wouldn’t, because people from the League of Assassins are so honest and truthful.”

“Nightwing,” she sighs. “Just tell Batman to back off, okay? He’s really not that bad.” 

“Not that bad? Four people are dead, and that’s just what we know of!”

“Four criminals are dead.”

“You’re a criminal. Technically, I’m a criminal. I guess we should die too, huh?”

“You and I aren’t like the Joker. We don’t set bombs off or poison hundreds of people with fear gas or any of the other things they did. They were never going to stop hurting people.” 

“So we put them in prisons. We don’t kill them. Have you read about Penguin? He had bleach burns in his throat and stomach. Who knows how long he was tortured for?” 

“I do.” Damian steps out of the darkness. “Not that long.” 

Nightwing is immediately on his guard, ready to attack if necessary. “What do you want?” 

“Right now? To talk. I don’t want to fight.” A bit of a lie. Damian definitely wants to fight, he just doesn’t want Nightwing to call for backup. 

“Give me one good reason not to cuff you.” 

“Well, I doubt you could get the cuffs on me in the first place.” 

He hasn’t had a good fight in the month that he’s been in Gotham, so when Nightwing charges at him Damian can’t help but grin. 

Nightwing is a decent fighter, but Damian has killed better. Still, he lets the fight drag on. He blocks escrima sticks and kicks and punches, and at some point he lands a right hook on Nightwing’s face that is sure to bruise. 

By the time he’s managed to pin Nightwing to the ground and hold a knife to his neck, Catwoman is gone and both boys are breathing hard. 

“I’m beginning to think you didn’t even bring any cuffs.” Damian takes a second to assure the older man’s hands are stuck. One wrist is caught by Damian’s left hand, the other is trapped under the weight of Damian’s knee. Nightwing wont be able to flip them or get the upper hand without slitting his own throat.

Nightwing snarls and spits in Damian’s face, but Damian doesn’t flinch or wipe it off. “No blood mixed in with your saliva, so you should be fine, most likely just some bruises.” 

“You seem to care a lot about my wellbeing for someone who has a knife against my throat.” 

Damian presses the blade harder. Doesn’t want to get distracted by conversation. Nightwing could be stalling for time. Batman could be on his way. 

He peers down at Nightwing. The man looks angry, but there’s no fear. “We both know I’m not going to kill you.” But is that because you called for help earlier or because you know I could’ve killed you already?

Nightwing raises an eyebrow. “And why is that?” 

“Because I don’t need to.” 

With that, he headbutts the man hard enough to disorient him and then quickly runs to the ledge and jumps to a lower roof. He lands in a roll and doesn’t stop running until he’s blocks away. 

Catwoman eventually catches up to him. “Well that was entertaining. If you had killed him though, our alliance would’ve ended.” 

“I know. You and every vigilante in a 100 mile radius would’ve been after me. But it’s like I said, I don’t need to kill him. His death wouldn’t help.” 

“You could’ve just told him that. You sounded all vague and threatening.” 

“Isn’t that what a villain is supposed to do?” 

She has the gall to laugh at him. He gives her a glare. “You’re not a villain kid, not to me.” 

He was ready to argue with her on the matter, but the not to me keeps ringing around in his head. Damian is definitely a villain to the rest of the world. But not to her. 

His mouth feels dry, and he tries to get the words out but his lips won’t open. “Then what am I?” he finally manages, but it sounds weak and quiet. Damian wants to clench his fist, because of course he can’t even talk without messing up, but Selina’s eyes are on him, so he doesn’t move an inch.

“You’re a good person.” 

He might laugh. Or cry. But instead he doesn’t do anything. 

At least she didn’t call him a hero. No, this is somehow worse than a hero. 

It’s okay. It’s okay. Her opinion doesn’t matter. He knows the truth. What does matter is that they’re not far enough from Nightwing, who probably called Batman, who is probably on his way. Damian isn’t going to react to something as insignificant as a person’s words, he’s going to react to the very real threat of a bat themed vigilante. Because that’s what matters.

Selina is staring at him the way she always does in their quiet moments. Like she’s trying to figure him out or dissect his thoughts. “We have to go. We’re still close to Wayne Tower.” 

“What were you doing there anyway?” 

“Later.” He says, and begins to run again. Damian focuses on his thoughts instead of her. He formulates a route in his head, turn at this building, use those stairs to jump off, land on the building with the beehives. 

Keep thinking. Don’t shake. Not a good person. Rooftops. 

City bees are actually better off than rural bees. He’s proud of whoever is taking care of those beehives. Urban beekeeping should be more popular. 

He should bring it up with Talia. Damian could take care of a beehive by himself, and he could use the honey in his teas. They won’t count as pets, so she won’t need to kill them either. 

By the time he makes it to the street Selina lives on, he feels calm again. He can make some beekeeping plans later tonight in his bedroom. It’s very unlikely that he’ll ever actually get to have a beehive, but he can spend a few days fantasizing. And that’s good enough, because it has to be. 

Catwoman sits on the edge of the rooftop, overlooking the street below. Damian makes sure to keep a few feet in between them when he sits. “I can’t stay for long. They’ll probably check here soon.” 

Catwoman leans back on her hands and dangles her feet. 

He continues, “I left one of my folders for Batman.” She’s seen his folders, at least some of them. He has a lot more, probably too many, and she has yet to see the way that they crowd his backpack. Just a few nights ago, he had to break into an office building for more supplies. “I gave you a list to help you use your abilities to improve Gotham. The folder was just his version of your list.” 

Catwoman doesn’t look at him, which makes him eternally grateful. He can only handle so much of her piercing eye contact. She keeps her gaze on the streets and then up at the sky, which is too cloudy to see any stars. “Wayne Tower has cameras.” 

“I know.” 

She smiles to herself, “Of course you do.”

It’s peaceful. Cars honk in the distance, but Damian feels removed from it. He lets himself scoot back a bit so that he can bring his legs up to cross. Abandoning good posture in favor of leaning forwards on his elbows, even though he knows he shouldn’t relax. If anything, he needs to leave as soon as possible. 

“Have you eaten today?” 

“You don’t have to ask me that every day.” Even if they don’t see each other, she’ll text him to make sure. 

“That’s not an answer.” 

He sighs. “I dont know. I don’t keep track.” 

“Change out at my place and we can go get something.” 

“I’m fine.” She seems to think he has an eating disorder of some sort. Or maybe she just likes having someone to take care of. “Not hungry.” 

“Okay, well you can watch me eat and take my leftovers for later.” 

It sounds like a good deal, but Damian doesn’t want to leave yet. He likes this. Likes sitting on a roof with her. She’s gotten less pushy over the past week. Selina respects when he says no as long as he says yes every once in a while. 

He resigns himself to getting up. The moment had to end eventually. They change clothes at her place, and Damian doesn’t ask why she bought him more outfits when he wasn’t around. It’s probably normal for allies though, especially since the clothes came in handy. 

“What kind of pizza do you want?” 

“Veggie is probably the healthiest.” When someone offers him meat, he always eats it. Damian can’t show a weakness that’s so easy to exploit, but when he’s not with his family he can get away with excuses about health or diets. 

They sit in a booth with the food and instead of getting leftovers, she makes him eat there. Which was, honestly, to be expected. 

Halfway through the meal, Selina starts to grab something out of her bag. Damian almost expects a gun, but instead she pulls out a pair of black leather gloves. 

“I got these for you, for the gala.” 

He looks down at his hands and then at the gloves before taking them. 

“Just because I don’t ask questions doesn’t mean that other people won’t.” 

The whole thing makes Damian want to hide his hands under the table. Instead, he sets the gloves aside and takes another bite of his pizza. “Thank you.” 

Selina gives him a smile that would dazzle a crowd. He must be losing his edge, because for the life and death of him, he can’t tell if the smile is fake or not. Pleasantries aren’t worth such a big smile, and she’s more of the sly smirk type of person anyway. “You’re welcome. We can say that you’re a germaphobe.” 

“Selina Kyle brings her mysterious, germaphobe nephew to a Wayne Gala.” He gives her a grin in return, and he adds it to the list of smiles that may or may not be sincere. Sometimes he believes his acts a little too much. 

“You’re not that mysterious.” 

“I appeared out of thin air. I don’t even think you have siblings.” 

“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. If people start to pry too much, say that you’re a street kid I took in.” 

Damian shoots her a dubious look, “Do you take in a lot of street kids?” 

“You would be the first. Even Batman had to start somewhere.” 

“Please don’t start adopting kids and making them your sidekicks.” 

“Pfft. You already are my adopted nephew sidekick.” 

“I am not your sidekick.” Damian finds himself grinning again, and it doesn’t feel as forced as it usually does, but does that make it real? 

“Maybe if you were littler. You’re so tall that no one would believe you’re my sidekick.” 

“I’m obviously the main partner in our alliance, don’t kid yourself. If anything, you’re my sidekick.” 

“As if! Catwoman is no one’s sidekick.” 

No one else is there to listen to them squabble as they leave the pizza place. As they walk back, Damian tries on the gloves. 

“How do they feel?” 

“They fit well.” The material looks smooth on the outside. “Warm.” 

“Good,” Selina looks pleased. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but Catwoman happens to carry a whip.” 

He knows where this is going, it was inevitable. 

“So Catwoman also knows what whip marks look like,” she finishes. 

“Do you always talk about your criminal persona in the third person?”

“You don’t have to tell me, but you can if you want to.” 

He takes off the gloves so that they can both look at the scars. They look like knife slashes they healed wrong. “League discipline. Nothing too bad.” 

“I’ve met other members of the League. They didn’t have these.” 

“I’m held to a higher standard than most.” 

“And why is that?” 

“I wouldn’t be your mysterious nephew if I told you.” He grins at her, finally looking into her eyes. 

It’s common knowledge that Batman is Bruce Wayne. It’s not common knowledge that Talia al Ghul has a son. Only the higher ups know, and he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to tell anyone else. Allies don’t need that kind of information regardless. 

Damian walks her almost all the way to her apartment. It’s probable that Batman or one of the others will be waiting for her, so they stop two streets away. 

“If you really wanna sell the nephew thing, you should stay at my apartment.” 

“Hm. Maybe. Does Batman keep any sort of surveillance over your place.” 

“No, we had a long talk about that a few years ago.” 

Damian can imagine. But staying at Selina’s place for a few nights could actually work out in his favor. “I’ve been in town for maybe a month now, so you’re nephew just arriving in Gotham sells my cover better. Hopefully the blond hair and scar thing will keep them from thinking it’s me.” 

“Not to mention your age. Made sure the kid said you looked like you were in your twenties.”

But Nightwing did see him in person. Green eyes. Light brown skin, but Damian could’ve passed as white in the dark. 

“Okay. I’ll arrive with my belongings in a cab tomorrow. If Batman is waiting for you, try to insinuate that you can’t sleep with him because your nephew will be there in the morning.” 

“Gotcha. See you tomorrow.” Her eyes sparkle with mischief and something else, but Damian does his best to match the intensity of his smile to hers. Matching intensities is very important for blending in with others. Underreacting and overreacting are the biggest give aways that a person is different. 

That night, he packs everything into his bag. Damian traces the ridges and bumps of his hands as he thinks about bees and gloves and an apartment with cozy cushions and a baby blue kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have an incredibly large amount of bee knowledge and I almost put in an info dump about bees. I’ve literally watched documentaries, read books, written essays, and have shirts about bees. Save the bees, they’re dying! 
> 
> Sidenote: who do I think I am??? Writing fanfics when I have AP exams in a few days. I’m so far behind in school that it’s funny in that way where you laugh and then somehow you’re not laughing you’re crying. 
> 
> Side sidenote: I baked carrot cake for the first time and it was hella good. Carrot cake is the most underrated cake of all time.


	8. Red Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason finally shows up

For the first time Damian has ever seen, Selina does not look put together. 

He’s used to seeing her in brand name outfits with her hair done and a full face of makeup. Currently, she’s wearing sweats and a loose t-shirt. Her face is bare and her hair is all over the place, but she’s somehow still naturally pretty. 

“When you said in the morning, you really meant in the morning, huh?” 

Damian glides past her to walk inside. “I’m actually running late.” It’s really not that early.

“Okay, well Catwoman likes to sleep in because she stays up all night, every night.” 

“You may go back to sleep. I will start my workout in the living room.” 

Selina doesn’t go back to sleep. She makes some coffee and wraps herself in a blanket on the couch. “Running across rooftops isn’t enough exercise for you?” 

He sets his things down and quickly stretches. “No. Maybe if someone spent the a night or two chasing me. That would be a good stamina practice.” 

Damian pretty much ignores her for the rest of the workout. His workouts are better when they’re quiet, and she seems more than happy to do her own thing. 

By the time he’s finished, Selina has cooked eggs, eaten them, and is now taking a nap on the couch. 

Damian finds it weird that she would just fall asleep in the open with a trained assassin at her apartment. He debates going through her things, but maybe allies aren’t supposed to rummage through the others belongings. In the end, he decides it’s okay to look as long as he doesn’t touch. 

Damian doesn’t find anything abnormal. He figures out where all of the Catwoman accessories are stashed, and notes just how full Selina’s closet is, but doesn’t stumble upon any bugs or cameras. Batman is too paranoid not to bug his girlfriend’s place though, right? 

Maybe Selina was right. Which actually makes her one of Batman’s weaknesses. Damian contemplates how he can exploit this without hurting his alliance with her, but decides he already is exploiting it. Using her to get into the gala, using her apartment as a base of operations. He’s used her enough for now. Damian will make sure to do something nice for her when their alliance ends. A thank you gift? No, she doesn’t really have any enemies he can maim, so that won’t work. A way to contact him? Possibly, it’d be the guarantee that if she needs help he can come and assist her or send someone else from the League. 

He’s starting to feel a pit form in his stomach at the thoughts of leaving her, so he distracts himself with his files. 

It’s impossible to find Harley or the Riddler with so little information about their current whereabouts, so he’ll focus on the people he actually can find. 

Red Hood is probably overdue for an appointment, but there’s a reason for that. Jason Todd is way too volatile to predict. There’s a chance that he’ll shoot on sight, or that he’ll thank Damian for killing the Joker, or that he’ll think Damian is coming after him now. 

The Red Hood would’ve made a great partner, except that he wouldn’t have. The man would probably have demanded that he should be the one to kill Joker, and then he’d try to talk to Joker before killing him, then who knows what. Damian can respect revenge, but Jason Todd only thinks he wants revenge. 

And now. Now Damian is the person who stripped Jason of the chance to get his revenge. 

Allah, these people are stupid. Despite everything though, Damian thinks that the Red Hood is smart. Rather, he has common sense. For instance, the bulletproof helmet. Or the way he’s managed to take over most of the mafia and controls a lot of the drugs and guns in the city. Or the way he doesn’t let kids get involved in anything dangerous. 

It’s more than Batman ever did. Bruce Wayne chose to let kids fight crime with him. Bruce Wayne is technically the smart one, but he must not have any common sense. 

Red Hood is almost easier to deal with, even with his mood swings and anger. Damian couldn’t think of a gift for Selina, but he knows the perfect one for the Red Hood. 

— - — - —

Catwoman wanted to come, but Damian said no. Her compromise was to make him at least where the comms they used at Arkham, which he agrees with. 

He hopes the muffled screams don’t bother her. 

When Damian shows up to the base, the gunmen let him through. Maybe they recognize the man he’s dragging behind him. His hands and feet are tied together, forcing him into an uncomfortable arch, with Damian tugging the rope and letting the man’s face scrape the ground. 

Red Hood is on the phone when Damian enters. “What do you mean he’s gone? Find him.” 

“No need. I have him right here,” Damian chimes in. 

Red Hood stops and turns to him. “What is this?” 

“It’s a gift. Named Malcolm Reeves.” 

“Kidnapping and then returning one of my men is a gift? Try a little harder next time.” 

“He’s been skimming off the top. Making people pay extra and pocketing the cash.” 

Red Hood pauses, “And how do you know this?” 

“Because I spent a lot of time tracking your money and investigating what happens to it.” 

“Or you’re lying.” 

Damian slowly pulls out a flash drive and then tosses it to him. “Proof. I made something for you to track your money better. Going digital is a risk you really should take. It also has a recording I made of Reeves tonight, first at the docks, and then later at a nice little apartment I found nearby. He obviously confessed.” 

It took breaking a nose and some fingers, but overall not that hard of a job. 

“Okay, say you’re not lying, it’s a bit early for Christmas, don’t ya think?” 

“I wanted to talk to you. Alone. This seemed like a good way to get there.” 

Red Hood tells his men to scram and walks up to Damian. “You’re the guy that killed the Joker.” 

“I am.” 

“He was my kill.” 

“Then why wasn’t he dead already?” 

Red Hood chuckles. “You’ve got a point, but I’m not over it quite yet. Did Talia or Ra’s send you here?” 

“Talia. She said not to hurt you.” 

“Why didn’t she come here herself?”

“Busy with Ra’s. They’re,” he pauses, “disagreeing.” 

“They do tend to disagree about Gotham.” 

Reeves chooses that moment to wake up and start frantically wriggling. Red Hood doesn’t watched for a moment before pulling out a gun and shooting him in the side. Reeves screams through the duct tape. 

“It’ll be a while till he bleeds out. What did you need to talk about?” 

“You do good work here. Safer conditions for prostitutes, no kids involved, no shooting cops, and you sell mainly to people who are already addicts.” 

“Yes, I am pretty wonderful.” 

“You’re basically a stand up criminal.” 

“But?” 

“But, we’re working on a plan to bring down crime rates. When the time comes, I want you to encourage your people to seek out clean jobs. Let them leave if they want to leave, stay if they want to stay.” 

“When the time comes?” 

“Hopefully within the year. Keep doing what you’re doing, but let Gotham get better.” 

“All of this sounds fair enough, but there’s really not anything in it for me.” 

“It will make Batman angry. Useless. He thrives on a crime rich environment.” 

Damian can tell he’s grinning underneath his helmet. “We have a deal.” 

“That wasn’t so bad,” Selina says through the comm. “I was really expecting him to shoot you.” 

Damian leaves without any problems, though he knows one of these men will talk, and Batman will come see Jason. He has absolutely no idea how that will go, he’s just thankful the Talia thing worked. Damian wasn’t sure if the two of them had left on good terms. 

When he meets up with Catwoman outside she asks, “Did Talia really send you?” 

“If she had, I wouldn’t be working with you.” Talia has always hated Selina Kyle, but she’s never told him why. 

“So Ra’s sent you.” 

“In a way. The mission was my idea, and he would prefer I fail.”

Selina must be digesting that information, because she doesn’t talk until they get back to their usual roof. 

It’s not until they’re sitting down that she speaks up. “You’ve met Ra’s.” 

“Yes.”

“And you get treated different,” she nods to his hands, “because you’re held to a ‘higher standard.’” 

“Yes.” He’s starting to get a bad feeling. 

“I already told you that I’ve dealt with other League members, right?” 

He stays quiet. 

“And the funny thing is, they usually travel in groups or at least partnerships.” 

It helps ensures success of the mission. Lessens the likelihood of betrayal. 

“In fact, the only League members I’ve ever known to go on solo missions were the al Ghuls themselves, so that begs the question,” she looks at him with those green eyes that always hurt to look back at for too long, “who are you?” 

Damian doesn’t blink. He’s stared down worse than this before. “Don’t.” The word is harsh, harsher than he’s ever been with her around. “I don’t want to have to kill you.” 

She looks taken aback, but she must have known she was getting close to something important. “Are you-“

“I said stop. If you say whatever it is you’re thinking out loud, then I will no longer have an excuse to spare you.” 

Selina’s mouth closes, and they stare at one another with charged looks. His fingers twitch imperceptibly towards his katana, but she isn’t moving so neither will he. There’s no doubt in his mind that he’s shattering what little trust she’s managed to form for him, but he can’t take chances. Talia said no one can know, and it’s his job to make sure no one ever does. 

“Maybe you’re just a prodigy. Talented or whatever. That’s all, absolutely nothing else.” 

His muscles ease. He’s glad she can take a hint. “Yes. That’s all.” Damian’s still on his guard, and neither of them have looked away, but the situation seems to be mostly resolved. “Admittedly, I am quite skilled.” 

The smile she plasters on doesn’t reach her eyes, “Bragging, much?” 

He tries to smile too. “It’s not bragging, it’s a fact. I am very skilled.” Their interactions aren’t usually this strained. 

“And modest, too,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Don’t stop now, tell me all about how much better you are than everyone else.” 

“Well I am.” 

Her laugh makes him want to puke.

This is all his fault. If he had kept his mouth shut, she wouldn’t have put together the clues, and he wouldn’t have needed to threaten her. 

Ugh, he’s so stupid. Damian ruins everything, and he really wants to apologize, but he knows from experience that apologizes don’t ever actually fix anything. Don’t bring back lives or trust or smiles. 

Actions sometimes help, but this isn’t simple or easy. It rarely is with Selina. Red Hood was happy with a traitor and a flash drive, but Damian already used his resources on making a list of wealthy rodents for her. 

She likes making him eat. Or getting to pamper him. He has a theory about some sort of missed opportunity at motherhood that she lost, but that isn’t the real issue here. “Do you want to go get food? Or cook something together?” 

Selina cooks a lot of her own meals. It’s probably because she doesn’t have a day job, and needs to find things to spend her free time on. She made him eat lunch today, so he’s already full, but he’s willing to chance throwing up to make her happy again. 

Her eyes light up, and she immediately jumps on the chance to make a batch of brownies with him. 

The brownies themselves are okay, but they don’t help his nausea at all. 

He keeps telling himself that he had to do it, but doesn’t know if he believes himself. What if he had simply sworn her to secrecy? That rarely works. 

That night, he sleeps on the floor with his own blanket. He’s more used to hard floors and sore backs than fluffy pillows. It’s comforting in its own way. 

Selina seems fine when she wakes up mid afternoon. Business as usual, she eats leftover brownies, reads something from her bookshelf, makes food, dons the Catwoman uniform to rob whatever place. 

The entire day is normal, but everything feels off. He can’t tell if it’s just him or not. 

Maybe Selina is fine after all. She’s surely gotten threats in the past, so has he, but they’re allies. He wants to ask, but doesn’t want the answer. 

It’s on him for ruining what they had. Damian can’t stop thinking about it and feeling sick to his stomach, so he ends up leaving the apartment to take a walk. 

It’s still pretty early in the night, and he’s not sure when she’ll get back, but he can’t stay inside. He ends up sitting on the steps leading up to the library since pretty much everything is closed at this hour. 

Damian briefly considers shoving his fingers down his throat. His stomach will stop trying to make him vomit once he actually has. He decides against it, because the action reminds him of all the poisons he’s had to get out of his system. The phantom sensation of convulsing and blurry vision makes him shut his eyes and dig nails into his skin. 

Gotham is pretty nice for such a supposedly horrible place. None of the passerbys bother him, and he’s yet to encounter any real resistance. The vigilantes are taking his presence the hardest, but even then he’s only had one fight with them. 

The gala is coming up soon and he isn’t sure how he’ll act yet. Bratty nephew with attitude, or golden child that everyone loves? He snorts to himself. Damian could pull off a golden child act, but he doubts that’ll make anyone love him. 

People can’t love demons. That’s okay though, because demons tend not to care. Which is why he makes the conscious decision to never care. 

When he finally leaves, he won’t have to think about Selina or Catwoman again. He’ll go on whatever mission they assign, kill whoever needs to die, seduce whoever has secrets and happens to be into teenage boys. 

Everything is going to be alright. Gotham is pretty nice for such a supposedly horrible place. And for many reasons, it’ll be even better when he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s exam day and what am I doing? I’m writing this and planning the first three chapters of another fic. 
> 
> I really do be struggling. 
> 
> When summer hits I’ll have way less stress and be able to write even more, just gotta get through the last few weeks of school.


	9. The Wayne Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter I’m pretty sure you’ve all been waiting for.

“I don’t get it.” 

“What don’t you get?” 

“Is the audience supposed to like Willy Wonka or is he the antagonist? He actively works against the children in the factory.” 

“It’s excused because those other kids sucked.” 

Damian frowns. “He goes out of his way to hurt children. Even if the children have flaws, isn’t that normally frowned upon?” 

“It’s just a movie. Well, two movies based off a book.” 

“The second movie makes way more sense. They explain his weird behavior and sadistic tendencies as a result of his upbringing and unresolved trauma.” 

“Boooo,” she throws a handful of popcorn at him. “The original is a classic, the 2005 version could never compare.” 

Damian catches each piece of popcorn inbetween his fingers and drops them back into her hand. “But the older movie doesn’t tell us anything about Willy Wonka. He’s just some eccentric chocolate factory owner that enjoys watching kids suffer.” 

“As all eccentric chocolate factory owners should.” 

Damian huffs and walks away. He resolves to stop asking questions after movie marathons, because Selina never gives him any real answers. 

Putting down the popcorn, she stands and follows after him. “Start getting ready, we have to leave in about an hour.” 

Damian doesn’t need an hour to put on a suit. “Can I put your makeup on for you?” 

“Do you know how to?” He answers with a nod, “Sure thing, but if it looks bad I’m redoing it.”

They walk to the bathroom, where she pulls out her makeup bag and sits on the toilet patiently. It takes him barely a few second to decide on what he’ll need from the bag and then lay it out. 

For the most part, Selina stays silent. He’s almost finished by the time she speaks up, “Who taught you how to do makeup?” 

“My mother.” 

“Is she nice to you?” 

“Define nice.” 

“Does she give you hugs? Or spend time with you?” 

“Occasionally.” 

“And she let you come to Gotham all alone?” 

“I’ve done solo missions before.” 

“But Gotham is different.” 

In a way, she’s right. He hasn’t experienced anything too weird here, but everyone treats Gotham like it’s on the verge of collapsing. There are men and women dressed in costumes jumping across rooftops and people all over the world trying to destroy it. Sometimes, Damian feels as if he’s the only person with any sense of reason. No one else realizes Gotham is just another city that simply needs a push in the right direction. The city really isn’t that different, but everyone believes it is. Even Ra’s and Talia believe it. 

“It is unlikely that she has noticed my absence.” 

Selina looks at him for a minute. Thinking she’s done talking, he turns to get the mascara, but she ends up wrapping her arms around him and crushing his body into hers. 

If Damian was anyone else, he would’ve lost his balance. It’s not a comfortable position with one of his arms stuck between them, but he shifts enough to wriggle it free and set down the makeup he’s holding. He doesn’t try to break the embrace, though, just lets her do what she wants. 

“This is unnecessary.” 

“I know,” she says into his shoulder. 

“Don’t mess up your makeup.” 

“Okay.” 

He isn’t sure what to do now. His arms lay limp at his sides, and he’s preoccupied with trying not to noticeably tense up. Damian knows this is a sign of affection, but all he can think about is the many ways someone could attack him like this. It’d be easy for her to jab a hidden needle into him, or bite into his throat and rip outwards (which doesn’t taste very good), or use the hold to slam his head into the countertop. 

He tells his brain to be quiet and focuses on the feeling of her hands, in case she does anything suspicious with them and he needs to react fast. Selina has no reason to betray him, but that’s ignoring the fact that he threatened her just days ago. 

After a while she lets go, and he quickly inspects her face for any smudges. “You’re good. Still need mascara and lipstick.” 

She lets out a long sigh at his words. It’s slightly distracting, because he thought she enjoyed things like fashion and makeup, but he chooses to apply the makeup rather than analyze her reaction. 

“If you ever need to leave that place, even for just a few days, you can always come here.” 

He almost doesn’t reply, “Why would I need to leave?” 

Selina never answers, so he won’t try to analyze that either. 

He finishes up and sets off to go get dressed. It’s not often that he gets to dress up in modern outfits, so he appreciates when his missions call for it. The suit he’s wearing is almost entirely black, from socks to shoes to tie, but the undershirt and handkerchief are a soft pink color and stand out against the black. 

Selina’s dress is the same color of pink, made with flowy fabric and a long slit up one of the legs. He made sure to match her lipstick and eyeshadow to the outfit, so it looks really nice on her. 

She hands him a black masquerade mask that matches her own and all but drags him back to bathroom so that she can look at them in the mirror together. “Dayum, we look good.” 

“I suppose. Isn’t this more of a costume party, though?” 

“Half Halloween party, half masquerade ball, so it doesn’t actually matter as long as we have masks.” 

“And our codeword?” 

“Hmm?” 

“No breaking character tonight. We will need a codeword to signal if something is off.”

Selina looks up in thought, “Smoothies.” 

Nodding, he agrees and he slips on his gloves. Before they leave he sticks a knife and a photo in his socks. 

— - — - —

The people at the gala are dressed similar to what Selina described, a combination of costumes and masks, but with a dash of promiscuity on the side. The vast majority of women are wearing elegant gowns, while the rest are donned with push up bras and low cut dresses. Damian really thought that the upper class would be above using Halloween as an excuse for slutty outfits, but of course they’re not. It is a Wayne gala, after all. 

Their arms are looped together as they walk in, because Damian is a proper gentleman, and the first person that comes up to them is Tim Drake. 

“Wow, Selina. He’s a little young for you.” 

“Ew,” Damian says with a disgusted expression at the implication, already acting like a petulant teenager. 

Selina just chuckles. “This is my nephew, Andrew. Andrew, this is Tim Drake.” 

This is the boy that Ra’s talks about. Damian specifically researched him for just that reason many years ago. He remembers feeling something close to jealousy because of all the attention Ra’s gave Drake, but now he couldn’t care less. He almost wishes Drake would take his place as the demon heir, except that he could never put that burden on someone else. Besides, Talia would start a war if someone else was named heir. She would much rather have someone she can easily control.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Damian says the words like he’s being forced to act polite and offers his hand to the man. 

Tim shakes it, unbothered by the attitude, “I didn’t know you had a nephew, Selina.” 

“And now that you’ve met him, you know why.”

Bruce Wayne spots them and walks over with a sultry smirk on his face and rests an elbow on Drake’s shoulder. The smell of alcohol lingers on him, but Damian would bet that it isn’t from any actual drinking. “Oh, so this is Andrew?” 

“You must be the man auntie Selina is sleeping with every night, nice to finally meet you.” 

Selina elbows him in the side, “This is why you’re my least favorite nephew.” 

“I’m your only nephew,” Damian pouts, rubbing his side and making sure to emphasize the pain to a near comedic point. 

‘Brucie’ laughs at the exchange. “Don’t let any reporters hear you. The Board is already mad at me as it is, I don’t need any more scandals.” 

He raises an eyebrow, “No offense, Mr Wayne, but aren’t they kind of used to it by now?” They hadn’t told him Bruce’s name yet, but it’s unlikely someone at a Wayne gala wouldn’t recognize the man throwing it. 

“This was nice. Andrew, I’m gonna show you where the food is, and you’re going to stay quiet for the rest of the night,” she starts pulling him away. 

“Aunt Selina!” he whines at her. 

She grins at him when they’re far enough away. “Warn a girl next time you announce her affairs outloud.” 

He shakes his head at her, “They’re still watching, don’t break.” 

Selina flicks him on the forehead and promptly turns to get some food. He rubs faintly at the spot, “Ouch.” 

“Pfft. It’s in character. I’ll kiss it better later.” 

“Please don’t.” 

“That sounded like a yes.” 

“You are the worst aunt ever.” 

“I’m pretty sure you mispronounced the word best.” 

“Do you have selective hearing? Or are you going deaf in your old age?” 

“You really shouldn’t mumble, because I can’t hear a word you’re saying.” 

“Ugh, don’t make references. I still barely understand those movies.” 

“They’re simple. The moral of the story was that most kids are brats.” 

“Including me?” The question isn’t in character. 

“I said most, not all,” and her smile makes his stomach flip in a way he’s not used to. Most of the time it churns with dread, but now it’s light and fluttery. He can’t bring himself to get rid of these emotions with pain like he usually does, even though he knows distractions have consequences. The grin he gives her in return feels shaky, and it’s much too real to be in his comfort zone. 

She smiles even harder in return, showing teeth now. “So are you going to ask any of these nice young teenagers to dance?” 

His nose wrinkles up, “Is it a requirement?” 

Warmth spreads from his stomach to the rest of his body at the sound of her laugh. “There’s no rulebook, but it is customary.” 

“I think I will sit at a table and eat salad until something happens.” 

“Nothing screams, ‘I don’t want to be here,’ like sitting alone in the corner with a salad.” 

“Well I can get away with doing it. You did tell me to be quiet for the remainder of the gala.” 

“I’m pretty sure everyone understands I didn’t mean that literally.” He lets out a long, exaggerated sigh, but they’re both still smiling. The corners of her eyes crinkle up when she smiles too hard, and he likes being the cause of it. 

At that moment, a caterer walks by, offering a tray of champagne, and Damian grabs two, handing the other one to Selina. “You really think I’m going to let my underage nephew drink?” she says even as she accepts the beverage. 

“It’s under parent guardian supervision, it’s fine. And it’s not like I’m going to get drunk.” As if he would ever let himself be so vulnerable around others. 

“Part of me wants to snatch the drink out of your hand and make a big show of yelling at you,” she grins into her champagne glass and takes a small sip. “But I won’t.” 

“Maybe we should’ve went with the laidback aunt character. You’re enjoying this far too much.” 

“So are you.” He is. 

“That is besides the point.” 

“You’re so cute when you try to deny that you love me.” 

He rolls his eyes, “I’m sure.” With a subtle sniff of the drink, he takes a sip. It doesn’t taste or smell poisoned, so he’s probably fine. “We’ve still got maybe an hour or two until anyone shows up.” Halfway through the sentence, he feels eyes on him. “Let’s find a good table.” He slowly maps out the room as if look for a seat but doesn’t let his eyes stop on the person looking at him.

It’s Dick Grayson. The man is wearing some sort of vampire costume and is talking to Tim Drake and Cassandra Cain. Damian gestures to a table, “That one looks nice.” The three vigilantes keep glancing back at him and Selina, and he isn’t sure if it’s because they suspect something or if they’re just talking about Catwoman.

He leads her to a table within hearing distance of the group. “You know, I didn’t even want to go to this thing, you made me come with you.” 

It takes virtually no time for her to get the hint. “You were supposed to have fun. I’m tired of you always moping around the apartment over some girl.” 

“I don’t mope, and she’s not just some girl!” 

“Why don’t you make some friends here?” she says with a sigh. “Or ask someone to dance.” 

“Because I definitely want to dance with one of the rich snobs here, yeah right.” 

“Fine, Andrew. Sit in the corner and look at old photos of her on your phone.” 

With a hmph, he takes a seat and crosses his arms, “Maybe I will.” At least he won’t have to talk to people now. Moody teenager really suits him. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the Cain girl approach them. She smiles at Selina and hugs her. Damian isn’t jealous of how easy and familiar it was for them to hug. That would be ridiculous. 

“Who is this?” Cain nods at Damian. 

“My nephew. He’s going through a break up and is acting like a nightmare.” 

“Selina! Stop telling everyone about my personal life.” 

“She’s the only person I’ve told tonight!” 

“Yeah, so far. Yesterday, you told that random guy at Starbucks.”

“Well I couldn’t flirt with him if he thought I was a married mom, now could I? He needed to know that the little gremlin next to me wasn’t mine.” Cain gives a quiet giggle at their interaction. “Oh, Cass, this is Andrew, by the way.” 

“Do you know all the Waynes?” he asks Selina. 

“Most of them,” she smirks. 

“You are so gross. Are you like their step mom now?” 

“God, no. I don’t sleep with Brucie that often.” 

“Auntie, dont lie to me. You’re gone practically every night.” 

“I’m not lying. I have other things to do than sleep with men.” 

“Oh really? Like what?” 

She just smirks harder at him. 

“If you say women, I’m leaving.” 

Selina throws back her head and laughs. “No, be quiet, Andrew.” 

Cain has been silent throughout the encounter, but Damian knows that is normal for her. She finally says, “You would make a good step mom, Selina.” 

The laugh she replies with sounds uncomfortable, “Too bad Brucie isn’t the type to settle down. But anyway, Andrew you should ask Cass to dance.” 

He glares at her and she glares back until he relents. “Of course. Cass, would you like to dance with me?” Grayson and Drake are still listening nearby, but all they’ve heard is a nephew and aunt arguing. Cain nods and takes his outstretched hand with a polite smile. 

The dance itself isn’t bad. Cain is small compared to him, but both of them know the routine, and the size difference doesn’t make either trip up. Andrew Kyle shouldn’t be able to dance this well, so he tries to downplay his gracefulness, but still dances well. “When did you break up?” she asks him. 

He was so focused on the dance that he almost didn’t understand what she was talking about. “To be honest, a while ago. Aunt Selina is right, I should be over it by now,” he pauses, “I just miss her a lot.” 

Cain was trained in a lot of the same things he was. She knows how to read body language, so he purposefully conjures up some sad memories to make sure he appears genuine. He thinks about the servant girl he was friends with when he was a child. Thinks about how her neck was much easier to snap because of how young she was. 

It must work, because she switches topics. “And the gloves?” 

He looks down at them. “I’m a bit of a germaphobe. It’s a long story. That’s actually one of the reasons I liked her though, she never forced skin contact on me. Waited until I was more comfortable around her.” 

She nods sympathetically. Or, at least he thinks it’s supposed to be sympathetic. Cain doesn’t really visibly react. Damian tries not visibly react to things either, unless he’s supposed to. 

“You were adopted by Bruce Wayne, right?” She nods. “Is he nice to you?” 

“Yes.” Her answer doesn’t leave room for argument. 

“Is he nice to my aunt?” 

“Yes.” Still as strong as before. 

“That’s good. She’s been a pain lately, but she’s just trying to make me feel better.” The music stops and starts up, but they keep dancing through the second song, both of them knowing when to shift into a different foot pattern. 

“Have you met her blond friend?” Cain asks. 

“She has a surprisingly large amount of friends for someone who sleeps all day. Which one are you talking about?” Cain either suspects he’s lying or thinks that he knows something. 

“Man. Scar on his cheek.” 

Damian furrows his eyebrows. “Sorry, no? Why do you ask?” 

“Bruce thinks she’s cheating.” 

“I don’t know what those two have going on together, but aunt Selina is loyal. Yeah, she flirts, but she would never do that to someone. And honestly, he’s more likely to cheat than she is,” his voice is slightly louder than it started. 

He stares at her as to try and prove his point. Cain stares back, unaffected. “Okay.” 

After a moment has passed in silent dancing, he says, “Sorry. I get a little protective.” He purposely lets his cheeks flush, forcing his body temperature up. “I didn’t mean to lash out. If Selina says he’s a good person, then I’m sure he is. All the newspapers and stuff talk about what a womanizer he is, but she says they make a lot of things up to sell headlines.” 

Cain nods once again and they finish up the dance. “It was really nice to meet you,” he hopes he convinced her with his act. It’s hard to tell when she doesn’t communicate her thoughts. 

“Likewise.” 

He searches the crowd for Selina. Thankfully she sees him and abandons the conversation she was having with two older men. 

“I assume it went well?” 

“It was fine. She asked if you had any blond friends.” 

“And do I?” 

“None with any scars,” he checks the time. “The speeches should be starting soon.” 

Less than twenty minutes later, a man takes the stage to talk. Damian is only half listening, scanning through the crowd for anyone suspicious. Gotham villains love drama and have a history of interrupting other people’s speeches with their own. 

Bruce Wayne is up there now. Everyone else seems calm, paying attention to the speaker. It feels off. These people have been to more than one gala, they should know what comes during this part. They must’ve been taken hostage in the past. 

He whispers something about using the restroom to Selina and begins to walk away. If he’s gonna see anything, he needs a better vantage point, somewhere away from the crowd. 

Just as he’s about to reach the far side of the room, someone bumps into him. Damian wasn’t expecting it, because they were walking by normally until they purposefully collided into him. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Damian has to hold back his annoyance because it’s none other than Dick Grayson. 

“It’s, um.” How should he respond? “Fine,” he finishes lamely. 

“Not staying to listen to them drone on?” Grayson nods to Wayne on the stage. 

He’s fishing. Grayson has been watching him all night, talking to the other Batkids about him, and now he wants to know why Damian is trying to get away from the crowd.

That, or Damian is still being way too paranoid. “I actually just had to pee really bad,” he ends with a slight blush on his face.

Grayson gives him a chuckle and lets him go by, “I won’t take up your time then.” He shoots him a polite, appreciative smile and steps into the bathroom. 

It’s inconvenient to have to spend actual time in the the bathroom, he only wanted to be near the restrooms to watch everyone else. Letting a minute pass by, he steps back out. Grayson is still there, leaning against the wall and appearing to listen to Bruce Wayne. 

Damian does the same, putting a little bit of distance between them and crossing his arms. Wayne is announcing construction for some factories “right here in Gotham,” but Damian doesn’t let himself be smug, can’t afford to be distracted. 

Movement catches his eye. A girl, dressed as an angel. She’s moving towards the stage, and Damian doesn’t do anything when he realizes that she’s carrying a gun. There’s nothing he can do from this distance that wouldn’t result in a panicked crowd of people. 

She has a gun to Bruce Wayne’s head, and it’s honestly not a surprise when she removes her white mask and reveals that she’s Harley Quinn. 

The crowd gasps, but really? A girl with long blond hair and a gun? An ironic angel costume? Damian reminds himself to act as horrified as everyone else, especially since Grayson is standing just a few feet away. 

Buzz. He checks his pocket, making sure to fumble with his phone as if distressed.

S: Is it too late to say I’m craving a smoothie? 

Damian looks up to where Selina is across the room. She has a worried expression on her face, like she’s concerned about her nephew’s safety, but he can tell she wants to smirk at him. 

From atop the stage, Harley yells, “I want Batman here. NOW!” 

Wayne asks her why she would want Batman. Tries to offer her money instead. 

“I don’t want your money,” she sneers. “I want Batman to help me hunt down the man that killed Mr J.” 

Well, that complicates things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really write these chapters at 2 in the morning and it shows. 
> 
> Fear not, for I actually edited this one. I know, it’s a new feeling for me too. 
> 
> I think what I love about this chapter tho, is that even the reader can’t tell if the Batfam is actually on to him or if it’s all in Damian’s head. 
> 
> Also, cute moments between Selina and Damian. He’s finally starting to let her in a bit.


	10. Harley Quinn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for Damian’s dark/violent thoughts I guess. Tbh, if you got through the torture scene, you can probably get through this.

Now, Selina actually does look worried. A bit more frantic than before. 

Damian turns to Grayson. “Should I call the cops? Tell them what’s going on?” 

He’s giving Grayson an out. Damian will go to the bathroom and call the police, and then Grayson will be free to escape to one of the cave entrances and change out. “Yes, hide in the bathroom.” 

“But Selina-“ 

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep her safe.” 

Damian looks into his eyes for a moment before nodding and slinking back into the restroom. Vigilantes are almost too predictable, always wanting to play the hero. He sends a quick text to Selina before dialing 911. 

A: Supposed to hide in bathroom. New plan, let Nightwing take down Harley. Don’t interfere. 

This was not the best case scenario, but it certainly isn’t the worst either. Harley could’ve gone off the deep end and just started killing people, instead she wants revenge. Damian can’t let her get it, so he’ll have to use his backup plans. 

As soon as enough time has passed, he opens the door and peeks out. Everyone is sitting on the ground with Harley walking slowly around them, waving her gun around like a madwoman. Damian lowers himself to the floor and quietly crawls out to a table, hiding behind the long white clothe. 

His fingers trail to the inside of his right ankle, feeling over the small blade tucked in the sock. It would be so simple to throw it and strike Harley’s forehead. She wouldn’t have time to react, and none of the vigilantes would be able to stop the knife in time. But that’s the easy way out, and Damian doesn’t do easy. His right sock may contain a knife, but his left sock holds his secret weapon. 

Before long, Nightwing appears. He makes a flashy entrance, flipping from a chandelier—when did he get up there?—and landing about ten feet away from Harley. “Sorry, Batman couldn’t make it.” 

Harley immediately grabs the closest hostage, a young girl in a short red dress, and holds the gun against her head. “Ya know, usually I’d have a lil bit a fun with ya, but I’m not feeling especially cheery tonight. Batman, or she dies.” 

“Well, you’ve got great timing, because you just missed him. Lucky for you, I was in town.” 

She presses the gun in harder, and the girl sobs. “You better do whatever it takes to get him here, he’s got a man to help me kill.” 

“Harley, revenge won’t bring him back.” Damian can’t see them, but he can hear Nightwing walking closer and the girl’s cries. “Put the gun down, and we can talk.” 

“Take one more step, and you’ll be cleaning bloodstains off a your suit.” 

Damian has to force himself to sit still. He would love to lean over and watch the show, but the movement would draw too many people’s attention. 

“You’re obviously grieving and-“ 

“Don’t tell me what I am!” 

Gunshots. A scream. The thump of a body falling to the ground. 

Damian can’t resist this time. Expecting blood spatters on Harley’s pure white angel costume, he instead sees Nightwing scuffling with her on the ground. The girl from earlier has mascara running down her cheeks, but other than that looks fine. Harley must’ve gotten in a few stray bullets when Nightwing lunged at her. 

It’s slightly disappointing. Though he knows he should be rooting for the safety of all bystanders, he thought he would get to see some real action tonight. All he got was a measly ten minute hostage situation. 

Everything is simple from there. Harley scratches and bites at Nightwing, but he manages to subdue and cuff her. They have to wait for the police to show up and take her, and for a minute there, it seems as if it’s business as usual. People begin to stand up, but it’s like Penguin all over again. It’s too easy. 

Damian half expects a bomb to go off. Or fear gas to be released. Or... anything really. This was her plan? What would she have done if Batman had showed up? 

It doesn’t make sense, but now Selina’s standing over him with her hand outstretched. He looks up, “That’s it?” 

She laughs. “Did you need more?” 

He forgoes her hand and stands on his own. “This is wrong. Something’s off.” 

Selina looks at him odd. 

It’s just so unsatisfying. No blood. No deaths. Easy. 

Gotham villains are easy to catch. So why hadn’t Batman already caught them? Maybe Damian shouldn’t have killed Joker, because now he wants someone interesting to deal with. He came to Gotham with the promise of maniacs and high level threats, but it’s been child’s play. 

Damian could do this so much better. Could ruin this city better than all of them, even Ra’s. 

Stop. Stop, that’s not me. It’s the Pits. The water takes over his thoughts, makes him think things he doesn’t want to. Talia and Ra’s are so used to it that it’s normal for them. His family drinks the water to heal their injuries, uses it to come back to life despite the lingering wrongness it causes. He can’t give in to the madness like they have. Can’t let himself crave what others have nightmares of. 

“Nevermind,” he mutters underneath his breath. Around him, people are hugging out of relief, and the cops are taking in Harley. “Can we leave now?” Tonight’s plan isn’t over yet, there’s still more to do. 

“Yeah, I’ll tell Bruce you weren’t feeling well after all of that.” 

Oh, yes. That’s good. It’ll make him seem more average. Regular. 

His head hurts, and everytime he closes his eyes he sees blood. Selina doesn’t make any conversation on the car ride back, for which he’s extremely grateful. The knife feels heavy at his foot, a reminder that he could use it at any moment. Selina has always been pretty, but she’d be even prettier soaked in red. 

No. She’s special. He can’t waste her blood. Keep it for later. 

He slams a fist into the passenger door, and Selina jumps, gripping the driving wheel hard. “Andrew?” 

Hands trembling, he replies without looking at her, “Yes?” 

The scenery outside the window becomes less of a blur as she slows down and pulls over, parking the car on the side of a street. For a moment, she says nothing. Just sits there and stares at him. 

“I apologize for the outburst. Can we keep driving? The plan is time sensitive.” 

“They’ll keep her in the holding cell until morning. We have time.” 

His head is ringing, and he knows from experience that it’ll go away if he can just make someone bleed. It’ll come back stronger afterwards, but he’ll have a few minutes of reprieve. 

Selina wants him to talk, but he isn’t sure what to say. He already apologized for hitting her car. 

“What’s wrong?” 

What’s wrong? What’s wrong is that if I look at you, all I’ll be able to think about is slitting your throat and then tasting it. 

He laughs and it sounds more unhinged than Harley did earlier. “I am fine.” 

“You’re not, but I can’t tell why. The gala went down smoothly.” 

“Almost too smooth.” 

“That’s a stupid reason to get upset.” 

Taking a breath, he tries not to think about how cool the metal blade is against his warm skin. “I know.” 

Confusion is radiating off of her in waves. She reaches out a hand to touch him, but his head snaps up and he snatches it by the wrist before she can finish the movement. 

“That hurts. Let go.” 

Her voice is calm, and it helps ground him. His grip loosens, “Remember when you called me a good person?” Selina nods, eyes as unreadable as ever. “I don’t think I’m even a person, let alone a good one.” 

“Are those your words, or someone else’s?” 

It’s hard to remember who said it first. His mom, the Pits, someone else entirely? 

Damian releases her wrist and begins to take off his gloves. He sets them aside and lightly reclaims her hand. Their fingers lace together, using his other hand to rub gently over the marks on her wrist. It won’t bruise, but that doesn’t make it excusable. “You know of the Lazarus Pits?” 

“Yes.” 

“They tend to bring out the worst of a person.” 

Her hand clasps his harder, “How many times?” 

“Too many to count.” It’s embarrassing. Each death is another failure. “One time, Ra’s,” his voice stops working. 

“He killed you?” 

It’s hard to breathe again, just like that night. “No. Yes. He,” spit it out, “drowned me. For hours. I lost count then.” 

Dying was a respite at that point. He would come back to life within minutes just to begin drowning again. Damian told her hours, but it felt like days. Ever since then, he’s gone on more missions for longer amounts of time. Doesn’t need Ra’s to get mad and repeat that specific punishment again. 

The ringing is gone. Now Damian is just exhausted rather than bloodthirsty. If he could, he would find a nice abandoned building to stay in. Somewhere without anyone watching him so he could retreat back into his plans. 

Shit, the plan. 

“Harley.” He looks up from their hands to Selina’s face. It’s a combination of anger and shock and sadness. Damian hates it, because he’s really not worth losing sleep over. “Keep driving.” 

She leans over and uses her unoccupied hand to cup his cheek. Ignoring all the horns blaring in the back of his mind, he doesn’t try to escape or move away. Selina presses a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Don’t go back there,” she whispers, and it’s supposed to be gentle, but he can hear the quiet rage in her voice. 

I have to, he doesn’t say. 

“Drive.” 

— - — - —

They make a quick stop at the apartment to get dressed before heading to the precinct. 

It’s not hard taking out all the cops in the building, it’s hard making sure none of them see him and Catwoman. They’re going to need some privacy, and Batman is wholeheartedly against that sort of thing. 

Overall, the whole thing doesn’t take long. There were some extra people in the building due to Harley, but not that many on the night shift. 

Harley herself just looks at him from inside the cell. Her blond hair is messy and tangled, and her angel costume no longer seems to be such a clean white as before. She crosses her arms, “Come here to finish the job? Mr J and now me? Well, get on with it.” 

“Believe it or not, I don’t want you dead.” 

Harley stands. She walks slowly to the bars, wraps her fingers around the bars and gets in his face. “Then what do you want? To gloat?” 

“I want to help you.” 

Her head tilts back, letting out a loud, harsh laugh. “You’ve helped enough, thanks.” 

“The Joker wasn’t a good man. He isolated you. Kept you dependent on him.” 

“Shut up,” she says, but it’s quiet. 

“Made you do things you didn’t want to do. Hurt you. Wanted you to think you needed him.” 

“I said shut up!” she says, louder this time, rattling the bars. 

He looks at Harley for a moment. Catwoman is somewhere behind him, but he doesn’t pay attention to her. “I was looking for you a while back. I found this instead.” Damian sits on a nearby desk and brings his leg up, pulling out the photo, then handing it to her. 

Harley keeps her eyes up. She knows what this is. 

“He wasn’t a good man,” Damian repeats. “But you can still be a good woman.” 

With tremors in her hands, she finally looks down at the picture. Her face crumples. 

“He’s gone now. You can get your life back.” 

Her voice is shaky, “But I can’t get them back.” 

Damian won’t lie, “No. That doesn’t mean you should give up, though. He controlled you when he was alive, he doesn’t get to control you when he’s dead, too.” The cell door unlocks with a loud clink, swinging open. “You can do what you planned, kill me and avenge his death. Or you can move on.” 

Harley steps out, looks from the picture to Damian to the picture again. “I wanted you to kill me.” 

“I know.” 

“Then why won’t you? You killed the others, killed him. Why not me?”

“Because you don’t deserve death. You should get a chance at a happy life.” 

She shakes her head. “No, I should rot in Arkham.” 

“That’s ridiculous. If you want to make up for everything that’s happened, then you don’t get to just sit in a cell all day. That’s not enough. You have to go out and do things to atone for your past.” 

Harley doesn’t look like the same woman she was at the gala. Earlier tonight, she took a room full of vigilantes hostage with just a single gun. Now, she seems small. Broken. 

It’s silent. She doesn’t move or say anything, staring at the photo in her hands. Finally, with a sigh, “I miss him. I know I shouldn’t, but I do.” 

“That’s okay.” Normal, even, but he doubts she’d appreciate the word. Holding a hand out to her, he steps closer, “But are you going to let that stop you?” 

Blue eyes look up at him with a glint of determination, but her smile is sad. “I suppose not.” Harley places her hand in his, and he leads her out to the car. 

Damian sits in the backseat with her, wanting to keep an eye on her as Selina drives, but it proves needless. Harley never makes a peep, she just sits and stares at the photo in her lap. Goosebumps pebble over her bare thighs, but she doesn’t move to cover them. Part of Damian wants to be worried, but this might actually be good. It would be more worrying if she acted like everything was okay. 

They reach Catwoman’s apartment, but Harley continues to be mostly unresponsive. Damian grabs her hand again to direct her. He brings her to the bathroom and sits her down. Grabbing the makeup wipes, he cleans off her face and then brushes through the tangles in her hair. 

As much as he doesn’t want to leave Harley alone in the bathroom with potential weapons, he also doesn’t want to intrude on Selina, who is probably in her bedroom, peeling off layers of leather. 

With a sigh, he guides the blonde back to his room, “You can take my bed.” Collecting his things, he gets ready to spend the night on the couch. 

“Wait,” she croaks, voice sounding wobbly. 

Damian regards her carefully. She’s looking down, avoiding his gaze. It takes less than a minute for him to understand. “I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

He lays the blanket back out, and turns off the lights. Damian already knows he won’t sleep, not in a room with such an emotionally unstable person. It’s okay though, he doesn’t mind sacrificing his sleep for her comfort. There’s a strong possibility that she’ll have nightmares, and Damian will be there to calm her down. 

Besides, he has more things to think about. Green water and even greener eyes. 

Damian gets dressed in the dark and then sits on the blanket as Harley’s breathing evens out. The walls are thin enough to hear the sound of the shower turning on. 

Selina won’t be happy that he’s staying in a room with Harley, but he’s more than capable of handling himself. Harley won’t be here for long, just until he can convince her of the next step in his plan. It should only take a few days to get her on board, and Damian has gone much longer without sleep. 

He listens as the water stops, can hear Selina walking through the apartment. She pauses outside his door, but ultimately doesn’t knock and retires to her own bed. 

It’s only been a couple of hours when he hears something else. Damian wouldn’t have picked up on it if he wasn’t already expecting it. 

He has to give credit where it’s due, Batman is almost entirely silent. 

It sounds as if the man is entering directly into Selina’s room through the window. Damian creeps towards the wall, pressing an ear against it. 

“Don’t you ever knock?” 

“Harley Quinn broke out.” His voice is low and gruff in a way it wasn’t at the gala. 

“Didn’t she just get arrested?” 

No answer. 

“So I guess you think it was me?” 

“Was it?” 

A cool laugh. “I thought we were past this. And if my friend and I had gone to see Harley, she wouldn’t be missing. She’d be dead.” 

“And Poison Ivy?” 

“I don’t know what happened to her. For all I know, she’s the one that broke her girlfriend out.” 

“Where was your partner tonight? He could be doing these things without you.” 

“We’re not partners, and I don’t keep a tracker on him, unlike some people. But you know what this means?” 

Again, Batman doesn’t answer. Almost an exact opposite of his talkative Brucie persona. 

“You’re not the only person looking for Harley now. It won’t be long until he starts looking for her too, and he won’t give her the chance to make it back to Arkham.” 

“Selina. Just because it seems like he’s doing good, doesn’t mean that he actually is.” 

“Isn’t he? Isn’t that why people are celebrating him? Why people held parties when the Joker died?” 

Damian forces himself not to smile. He didn’t know about the parties, had only heard about the extreme desecration of the man’s grave. Lots of people had been hurt by the man, lost loved ones, had their homes blown up. For every Joker supporter, there were four times as many people that rejoiced his death. 

“And where does it end? What if he decides you’re as much a criminal as the others?” 

She snorts. “I’m not, and he knows it. I’ve never murdered for pleasure.” 

“And me?” 

“From what he’s told me, I don’t think he cares about you that much. He’s got more important problems. Not everything is about the Batman. Is that what this is? You can’t stand someone doing your job better than you can?” 

“I’m worried about you.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re trying to get me to give up information.” 

It’s true, and Damian is glad she can see that. That she won’t let him guilt trip her with talk about what’s right and wrong. 

“This isn’t about me or you. It’s about not letting a man run around and kill whoever he wants.” 

She sighs. “I’m done talking to you. I’m sure you can show yourself out.” 

Damian can hear him hesitate, but he relents and leaves. With Batman gone, Damian crawls back over to his blanket and fishes out his phone. 

A: I’m sorry. 

S: Not your fault. 

Except that it is. If Damian hadn’t showed up, the two of them wouldn’t have fought tonight. She would’ve gone to his gala and stayed the night. Their relationship would be fine. 

Damian wants to apologize for poisoning what they had, but it wouldn’t fix anything. Even when he leaves, they won’t reconcile. They won’t forget all their fights and disagreements. 

A: Don’t lie.

She doesn’t reply, so Damian settles for staring at the wall again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this took a long time for me to finally write and post, but in reality it’s only been four days? Idk man that’s slow for me, I usually take 2-3 days. 
> 
> Anyway, some things I want to touch on:
> 
> 1\. Harley will no longer be speaking in an accent. As most of you know, her accent is fake. She only spoke with it because J liked it. 
> 
> 2\. I wasn’t going to mention the drowning thing for a while, but it kind of came up naturally, so I used it. Damian still hasn’t told the complete story of what happened, though. 
> 
> 3\. So um, this fic is getting pretty long. I have basically all of the plot planned out already, but I have no idea what the word count will end up being. Tbh, there’s still a lot left, so if you wanted to read something short, you better save this for a rainy day instead. 
> 
> 4\. No one has called any of the characters OOC so far, but I wanted to talk about that. For instance, Damian isn’t a ball of anger and fury in this fic. That is because that was his coping mechanism as a preteen. He’s several years older and has obviously matured some. Being angry 24/7 didn’t work, so now he just sort of retreats into his head. As for Harley, her existence was mainly centered around J, now that he’s gone she’s feeling lost. Damian is gonna try to help her get on the right path. 
> 
> 5\. I’ll reveal what the photo is later, but you guys can try to guess if you want. Or you could just wait a few days for the next chapter lol


	11. The Trial of Harley Quinn

Damian doesn’t have nightmares, he just has dreams. Dreams filled with blood and rotting corpses and his mother’s voice telling him what to do, but they’re not nightmares. Nightmares are something other people have. 

Harley wakes up shrieking and kicking as she repeatedly whimpers out, “I’m sorry,” and Damian has to hold her down and whisper sweet nothings about how everything is okay. His voice doesn’t sound half as gentle or reassuring as he wants, but the effort is there. 

Through it all, he can’t help but wonder what it’s like. To wake up screaming and sobbing. The most he’ll ever be able to experience is waking up in a harsh sweat, because Damian will never let himself call out for help or start crying. Not even in his sleep. 

When Harley finally calms down, she glares at Damian, “Get off of me.” He obliges, not expecting her to turn on him. If anything, he thought she would cry into his arms or maybe ask for a hug. Huh. 

She sits up, putting her face in her hands and taking a deep breath. “What time is it?” 

“Almost sunrise.” He watches her cautiously, not sure what she’ll do next. It’s very possible that she woke up with a changed mind. 

Harley looks up, surveying the room. Last night, she was far too empty and exhausted to actually appraise her surroundings. When she sees the photo she set on the nightstand, she flips it over and averts her eyes quickly, choosing to look at Damian instead. 

“So what’s your story?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Got some weird vendetta? Or do you think you’re the new ninja-style Batman?” 

The thought is revolting. As if he’d ever want to be Batman. “I have no story.” 

She laughs coldly. “Everyone has a story. I just want to know your motivations, why you’re doing all this.” 

Damian considers his options. He’s not about to tell her that his grandfather wants to burn a city full of mostly innocent people, but she needs to understand his reasoning in order to trust him.

“Does rebellious teenager count as a motivation?” It’s not entirely untrue. Just a twisted, simplified version of what happened. 

This time, her laugh has a hint of humor to it. “Yes, actually. That goes into the weird vendetta category.” 

He needs to supply more information, make sure she’s convinced. “My father thinks Gotham isn’t worth saving. I’m proving him wrong.” 

“By saving it?” 

“Yes,” he nods. It makes enough sense, and it’s not all that off-base. 

“And saving me?” 

“I haven’t saved you.” 

Harley grinds her teeth, looking more bitter by the second. “But you have some plan to fix me.” 

Yes. “No... It’s more like you will be helping yourself.” 

“Cut to the chase and tell me.” 

He was going to wait. Hoped she would stay in her fragile state so that he could pick up the pieces and gain her trust over time. People never do what he wants. 

“I want you to turn yourself in.” 

Harley stares at him for a full eight seconds before she bursts out laughing. 

“You got me out of jail to put me back in it?” 

“Not exactly. When was the last time you had a proper trial?” 

Her eyebrows pinch together in thought. “A while. The police always just put me right back in Arkham.” 

“Exactly. You break out, they put you back in, you break out again. It repeats.” Damian stands and walks over to his backpack, digging out the specific file he wants. “But I already made something for you to look at. I also have some potential lawyers for you to choose from.” 

He hands it to her, sitting on the bed again. She begins flipping through. “You outlined my case?” 

Of course he has. “I have substantial evidence and records. You plead insanity, and we can get you to a proper facility. Somewhere that isn’t Arkham, which obviously doesn’t work.” 

Harley frowns up at him. “No.” 

“Yes. This is the only way to become legitimate. To start repairing Gotham’s justice system.” 

“I’m not insane.” 

Damian could roll his eyes. “Maybe not. But would you rather spend the rest of your life in Arkham?” 

“I can run. Get a new life.” 

“No matter what you think, it would benefit you to be treated at a mental health care center. After you’ve been treated, you’ll be free.” 

“I’m free right now, I don’t need any treatments.” 

“You’re not free, you’re on the run. There’s a difference.” He’s starting to get agitated. “Harley, you were a psychiatrist. If someone else had gone through what you have, wouldn’t you tell them to seek out a health care professional?” 

She shuts her mouth. Looks over at the now upside down photo. With a sigh, she asks, “Are you sure this will work?” 

“There’s enough evidence to support you. Everyone already thinks you’re insane, we really just need to prove that you need somewhere other than Arkham.” Damian might get Arkham shut down later. He hasn’t fully decided whether it’s worth fixing or demolishing. 

“Can I-can I just have a few more days? Until I go back.” 

“Of course.” She either wants to escape from him and run, or she wants to get used to the idea of it all. “We can talk more about it later. Would you like some breakfast?” 

The next four days are horrible. Selina tends to leave Damian alone to his business, but Harley is always there. She goes through his files, talks during movie marathons, asks too many questions about his hands and his supposedly villainous dad. 

Not to mention that each night she has nightmares. That she gets mad at him for no reason on a daily basis. How she cries in the shower and gets even more mad when he mentions it. 

But overall, she’s not the worst. She doesn’t yell even when she’s angry. Listens to him when he goes a little too in depth about his plan for her trial. Doesn’t complain that the only tv he likes is the nature channel. 

On the sixth of November, she wakes up and tells him she’s ready. 

He walks her to the street of the station, stopping just a few buildings away and hands the folder to her. “I have a copy if they confiscate this.” 

“I know. You have copies of everything.” 

“And you have no sense of privacy.” 

“Says the boy that watched me shave my legs.”

“That was necessary.” 

“Yeah, yeah. No sharp objects.” 

Damian takes a moment to look at her. “This is goodbye for now.” 

“Are you coming to the trial?”

“Perhaps.” It might be too hard to keep his cover, especially if they make the trial private.

“Will you visit me after?” 

“Yes.” She’ll need support. 

“Okay. I’ll see you soon.” Harley walks away, not looking back. 

Later, when Damian hacks into the cameras, he watches Harley enter. As soon as someone notices her they start to pull guns out, but she just holds up her hands and the folder, calmly saying, “I want a lawyer.” 

They enter the folder into evidence, have to because she can’t keep it with her, and they try to interrogate her about where she’s been for the last week. Harley refuses to say anything until she gets a lawyer. 

It ends up taking a few weeks to get a proper jury. So many people have pre-existing bias against her, and almost no one is happy that she’s pleading innocent, even if she is insane. 

The trial is public, so Damian puts on a hoodie and tries to stay under the radar. He arrives as early as possible to get a seat, making eye contact with Harley but showing no signs of recognition. 

There’s a lot of witnesses. People who have seen her aide and abet the Joker. Seen her act alone. Everyone knows she’s done bad things, the real problem is making sure she seems like enough of a victim that they let her get treated somewhere other than Arkham. 

Cameras flash when Harley takes the stand. The prosecutor barrages her with questions, and she admits to everything she took part in. Harley remains calm through it all, but her voice is more and more tired as it goes on. 

The prosecution rests and her defense lawyer stands up. 

“Ms Quinzel, how often did the Joker threaten you?” 

“At least once a week.” 

“And many times has he threatened or attempted to take your life?” 

“Too many to count.” 

“I have here some hospital records in which you had multiple cracked ribs and several lacerations. What happened that day?” 

She looks down at her lap. “He threw me out of a window.” 

“But after you were released, where did you go?” 

“Back to the apartment we were staying at.” 

“What made you go back to him?” 

“Well, he sent me a get well soon card. So I, I thought he cared.” 

The lawyer looks at the jury, gauging their reactions. “I have two other sets of medical records. The birth and death certificates of a set of twins.” He shows off the records, “Are these your children?” 

Harley looks up at that. “Yes.” 

The courtroom collectively gasps. Even more flashes go off, reporters hitting everything down. “Was the Joker the father?” 

“Yes.” 

“I was also given a copy of this photograph. Is this a picture of your children?” Again, showing it off to everyone in the room. 

It takes her a long time to reply, staring at it. He wonders if they let her keep the original photo with her, if she’s gotten to see it all since she gave herself up. “Yes.” 

“How old are they in this picture?” 

She shifts in her seat. “Three.” 

“At what age did they die?” 

“Four.” Her fingers and fidgeting.

“Why did they die?” 

Harley covers her face with her hands, leaving a gap over her mouth so that she can speak clearly. “He killed them.” 

“The Joker?” 

A sniffle. “Yes.” 

“Why?” 

Even with her hands in the way, Damian can see a tear fall down her cheek. “Because he thought it would make a funny joke.” 

Silence. The lawyer is either as taken aback as the crowd, or he just wants that to sink in for the jury. 

He clears his throat. “This woman is as much a victim of the Joker as anyone else in Gotham, if not more so. Since Arkham has repeatedly not provided adequate treatment over the years, I move that she be treated in a different facility. Harleen Quinzel needs help that the justice system has denied her for far too long.” 

The jury takes forever. 

It wasn’t supposed to take this long. Harley even cried, that should’ve been enough to sway them to her side. Appeals of pity almost always work on the average person. Almost. 

Damian sits still, not moving. Sometimes he pretends to be on his phone just to seem less suspicious. Worry churns in his stomach, only slightly eased by the fact that at least Harley never looks back at him. 

Bruce Wayne and his lackeys didn’t show up in the court, as their presence would draw even more attention, but Batman must be watching the cameras. Or he’ll review them later. If Harley and Damian interact too much, even just too many glances, Batman will take an interest in him. See that it’s Andrew Kyle, find him at Selina’s. 

Going through his breathing exercises, he regulates the tension in his body, making it flow out. Harley only looked at him in passing once, Batman won’t notice him on the cameras. Damian should be more concerned about the jury. Not Batman discovering his identity. 

The jury takes three hours to come back. Damian tenses on purpose when they enter the room, looking like every other person in the room. Interested and at attention. 

All eyes watch the foreman of the jury as he steps forward to hand the verdict to a clerk. The clerk opens it, “The jury has come to the verdict that on all counts, Harleen Quinzel is innocent by reason of insanity.” 

“So say you all?” the judge asks the foreman. 

“Yes, your honor.” 

“Well then, Harleen Quinzel will be sent to the Piedmont Center of Mental Health until she is deemed sane.” Clack, clack. 

The court room is in uproar. People stood up at the announcement, yelling, more flashes from the cameras than ever before. Damian has to push himself out of the crowd to leave. No one looks at him, too busy shouting their own opinions or insults at the infamous girlfriend of the Joker. 

He slips out, taking a side exit to avoid the even larger crowd outside the building, waiting to take pictures of Harley being transported. 

Damian has to take a subway to get back to Selina’s apartment, which is absolutely disgusting. He gets crushed against people and there’s always too many eyes on him. 

Letting himself lean back and rest his head on the wall, he lets out a deep sigh. The Harley plan is all but over. He’ll make sure to keep in touch for a while, retain her trust. According to her, they have a “blooming friendship”, so Damian will be able to keep her where he wants her. Maybe he’ll even visit on the holidays. It’s just a few days until Thanksgiving, and then there will be Christmas. 

Harley has many mood swings, but she’ll stabilize in the health center. Damian will continue to let her think they are friends, tell her what direction to take her life in when she gets out. She’s difficult, but she doesn’t have anyone else, so he’s got this in the bag. 

He gets to Selina’s place without any more people brushing against him, enters through the door without knocking because it almost feels like a home to him these days. 

“How’d it go?” she asks from the couch, watching the news. 

“I’m sure you’ve already heard.” 

“Yeah, innocent but insane. Not going back to Arkham. Did you blackmail the judge?” 

“No. The dead twins make her very sympathetic.” 

Selina frowns. “That’s nice, I guess.” 

Damian plops himself down next to her, “Now, we wait.” 

Raising an eyebrow, she replies, “On?” 

He doesn’t answer, loving his secrets more than he should and giving her a sly smirk. 

Shouldn’t be too long, now. The Riddler must know that he’s the last one left. 

It’s his move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some things about Harley’s twins: 
> 
> In a few comics (and Suicide Squad), Harley fantasizes about having twins with the Joker. 
> 
> In Injustice, she has a daughter named Lucy Quinzel, who later has twins. 
> 
> So one could conclude that twins run in her family. There’s a few other things you could think, too. Like maybe the Joker killed her twin babies and that’s why she hid her pregnancy with Lucy from him after that. Or maybe in this timeline, she never had Lucy. Or had the twins instead of Lucy. Maybe the Joker only killed the male twin, and Harley hid away Lucy and never told her about the brother she barely remembers. 
> 
> Honestly, this probably won’t come back up in the fic. I just want you guys to enjoy these little what-ifs. The last one sounds the coolest. 
> 
> Anyway, Riddler is going to come up soon, and he is so hard to write. I’m a math prodigy guys, I take super advanced math. I do trigonometry for fun, but I don’t know shiz about riddles. I will try my best to write his hijinks, though. 
> 
> This chapter felt a little short, but the next one is a holiday special about Damian and Selina’s Thanksgiving and Christmas together. I have the absolute most inspiration to write this, because it is so darn cute. Guaranteed that it will arrive soon.


	12. Holiday Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes out to juhaal, they came up with the really cute idea of Ivy sending Dami a postcard, and I built off of that and used it in here.

Damian has never experienced Thanksgiving before. Even if he is in America during this time, there is no one for him to celebrate it with. 

Now there’s Selina, who actually woke up early today. She never does that, and she’s been cooking ever since. 

Damian avoids the kitchen like his life depends on it. He has to prepare himself before meal time. 

It’s just meat. No big deal. He’s done it before, had turkey before. 

But. He’s gone a over a month without meat. By now, Damian has usually had to eat meat to make sure his family wouldn’t notice anything. Here, in Gotham with Selina, he’s managed to keep it off his plate. Uses excuse after excuse and gets away with it, because Selina doesn’t care as long as he eats something. 

This is Thanksgiving, though. Famous for consuming huge turkey breasts and as much food as possible. 

Damian got so far. So long. A whole month. He’s not even American, he shouldn’t have to ruin this over some inane holiday. 

But Selina loves cooking. Of course she’ll have cooked a turkey, and it would be rude of him not to at least try some. 

His stomach hurts. He hasn’t been able to eat the last few days. Was more nauseous the closer Thanksgiving got. 

Damian can’t disappoint Selina. He can eat a stupid bird. 

It’s simple. Eat the damn food, compliment her cooking, make her smile, leave. He can do it. 

The urge to vomit hits him. Anyone else would be clutching at their middle by now, but he just sits. Stares even harder at his book of riddles. 

He needs to memorize these as quickly as possible, then move onto the next riddle books. Damian won’t make a fool of himself by being tripped up on a simple riddle, he’s better than that. 

Better than this. Than wanting to go into the kitchen and yank out the turkey that must be waiting for him in the oven. Throw it away before Selina can stop him. 

He could. Damian would come up with a reason. Say he believes that a rival League member has been there and poisoned their food. 

It might not hold up to inspection, but he can convince her that he truly did think they had been poisoned. 

No. Ridiculous. There’s no need to waste all of Selina’s hard work. She’s been cooking for hours, he can eat whatever she’s made. 

He can and will. It’s just meat. Everyone else eats it. Stop being so abnormal. 

There’s a knock on his door right before it opens. Damian didn’t even hear her approach. 

“Hey, food’s ready.” 

She smiling. Selina looks so happy. He’s not going to wreck her joy. Not even if he can feel himself paling as his stomach twists painfully. 

“Great.” 

Damian walks to the kitchen with his hands in his pockets so that he won’t have to worry about them visibly shaking. As soon as he reaches the room, he scans it for the turkey, eyeing the oven when he doesn’t find it. 

He takes his seat. “There is a ritual before the food, correct?” 

She laughs as she sits across from him. “The giving of thanks? Yeah. Everyone has to say what they are thankful for.” 

“Should I start?” 

“If you want, you don’t have to.” 

Damian quickly learned that Selina was nothing like Talia, but everything still sounds challenging to his ears. Every conversation is still a test. 

“I will.” Mother would want him to show how much he values her. “I am grateful for our alliance. You have been a very adequate partner.” 

A dubious smile in return for his words. “I am pretty amazing. I would have to say I’m thankful that most of the local maniacs are six feet under.” 

He appreciates the roundabout compliment but wants to get this over with already. Eat and leave. It’s another mission he has to get through. “Wonderful addition. Food?” 

Another laugh. “Wow, hungry for once. Yeah I’ll get it out.” 

She walks to the large pot—was that where the turkey was? 

Selina pulls out a small bowl and ladles some sort of soup into it before sliding it in front of him. “Here, it’s vegetable stew.” 

Oh. She immediately turns around to get out more food. 

“I also made baked potatoes. And for dessert, some pumpkin pie and an entire thing of whipped cream to pile on top of it.” 

He can’t stop looking at the stew. Onions, carrots, mushrooms, peas, celery, tomatoes...oh. 

Selina turns back with her own plate of food and almost drops it when she sees him. 

The tear that falls onto the table breaks the silence and makes him cringe so hard. “B-bathroom.” He runs harder than he ever has. Harder than that one time a tiger was chasing him. 

The door slams behind him, lock clicking into place. Clawing at his face, digging his palms into his eyes in the hopes of making it all stop. 

Harsh intakes of breath. He tries to breathe in, hold, breathe out, but—oh no— he’s still crying. Fuck, fuck. This is not the time. He was supposed to force himself to eat some meat and then maybe throw it all up when no one was around. This is somehow worse. 

“Andrew?” 

He doesn’t answer, can barely breathe. 

It’s okay. Everything’s fine. Selina is the only person who saw him cry, and she doesn’t ever hurt him. There’s no one for her tell, no way for anyone else to find out. 

If his knife wasn’t in his room, he’d use it right now. Focus on the pain and then breathe through that instead. 

The lock turns backwards, meaning Selina must have picked it. 

She sits down next to him on the floor. Waits for him to calm down enough to form sentences, places her hand between them, facing up. 

Damian wipes off his tear stained hands, lets one land over hers. “Hi,” she says. 

“Hello,” he whispers. 

“The food’s getting cold.” 

He remains facing away, doesn’t want to look her in the eyes. “Sorry.” 

“It’s fine, there’s more.” 

She wasn’t supposed to notice. He’s should have hidden it better. 

Damian is almost good enough at lying to trick himself into believing that’s what this is about. That it’s because she noticed something she shouldn’t have, as if that hasn’t happened before. 

“Why did you do it?” 

“Do what?”

“Make the vegetable stew.” 

“Well, it was one of the easiest vegetarian Thanksgiving recipes I could find online.” 

“I’m not vegetarian.” 

Selina takes a long time to reply, trying to find the right words for the situation. “Okay. And if you were, that would be fine too.” 

Maybe it would be if he wasn’t him. 

“It’s a weakness.” 

Her hand tightens on his, and then she sighs, leaning her head on his shoulder. “The League isn’t always right. Not everything is a weakness, sometimes it’s just a food preference.” 

Damian gathers all the courage he can muster and scoots back far enough from her to make eye contact. “It is not that simple.” 

She just stares back, waiting for an explanation. 

“I don’t want to hurt them. Or eat them. People are easy to kill, but...” He trails off, not knowing how to describe it. 

“But?” 

“But animals aren’t malicious. They don’t commit treacheries. They’re.” Why is it always so hard to say the things he wants to? “Nice.” 

“And people aren’t?” 

“Not usually.” 

“What about me?” 

“I do not wish to answer that.” It’s not that she isn’t nice, it’s that if he told her his true thoughts, she wouldn’t like him as much anymore. Selina is lonely, but doesn’t necessarily want a romance to fill that void. If she did, it would be easy for her to marry Bruce or someone else. Damian works for her, because she can treat him as a friend, a roommate, a partner, a son, or a nephew. Whatever she wants at the time. He stays in his room until she drags him out to keep her company. 

In a way, she’s a gentler Talia. When Selina wants someone to talk to, he appears. When Talia has a mission she needs completed, he’s there. Damian isn’t a person. He’s useful. A tool that ceases to exist when not in use. 

It’s hard to tell if he’s real sometimes. 

Selina frowns, green eyes full of thought. “That’s okay, too. But Andrew, when you finish your grand mission of fixing Gotham, I want you to stay here.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s not good for you to be with them. Stay in Gotham. With me.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Please.” 

“Selina, if I tried to stay here, they would make me watch you die. And then they would kill me.” 

“We could fight them.” 

“They would just send more.” 

“We could get Bruce’s help. He’d understand once I explained the abuse they’re—“ 

“What abuse?” His voice is hard as a rock. 

Selina fumbles, biting back her immediate response. “Your hands? And everything else.” 

“My hands were an act of discipline, and there is nothing else.” 

“Discipline? No. Discipline is making your kid sit in the corner, not whipping his hands raw.” 

“I’m not some kid. I have bigger things to live up to, so they are pushing me harder. How can I be great without being trained properly?” 

“Is that what they told you? That’s ridiculous.” Damian is just about to argue more, until he hears her next words. “You’re already great as you are.” 

He can’t even bring himself to glare at her. She keeps doing this. Damian hasn’t earned most of the compliments she’s given him, and it makes him clench his fists. Selina knows nothing of what he’s done. Doesn’t understand that he isn’t worthy of the things she says.

Taking one last deep breath, he deflates into a slump. 

“Can I hug you?” she asks, as tired of the argument as he is. 

“Not right now. Later.” His stomach hasn’t fully recovered from the days of built up dread and anxiety, he’d just be a bundle of nerves in her arms. 

She rises from the floor, “Okay. Wanna eat?” 

Damian takes her outstretched hand, getting to his feet as well. 

— - — - —

“You’re up early.” 

“It’s Christmas, getting up early is a requirement.” 

“For little kids.” 

With a roll of her eyes, she sets her mug aside and grabs a neatly wrapped present. “Shut up and get over here.” 

“When did you have time to do this?” he asks as he sits down on the couch next to her and takes the gift. 

“It’s from one of the guys on the list you gave me way back when. Sentimental value and all that.” 

He rips the paper apart, opening the thin box inside. Inside lays two black leather cords, attached at the back to form a necklace. Hanging from them is an emerald pendant, the green a sharp contrast against the black. 

“I originally stole the gem for myself. Thought it would match my eyes, but it actually matches yours better.” 

“It is nice. Thank you.” 

She smiles brightly, and he returns the gesture as best as he can. “Do you want me to put it on for you?” 

“Of course.” Damian turns, feeling exposed with his back to her. She laces the necklace around his throat, clasping the ends. It’s short on him, almost a choker. He shifts, facing back towards her, “How does it look?” 

Her eyes flit from his own to the gem and then up again. “Good. Do you want to see it in the mirror?” 

“Soon.” He won’t. Doesn’t want to look at his own face. Doesn’t want to get attached to an object that could be taken away from him when he goes home. “I have a present for you too.” 

“Really?” she raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t have to.” 

“I chose to.” Damian leaves, returning with a paper, “Here.” 

Selina takes it from him to examine. It’s a sketch of her at the gala. She’s dressed in pink, holding a flute of champagne and smiling at someone not in the frame. The drawing itself is good enough to be considered professional work with its attention to the smallest of details, including individual curls in her hair and the tiles on the floor. 

“How long did this take you?” 

“I didn’t time myself.” 

She rolls her eyes and grins. “I love it. I’m gonna put it on the fridge and everything.” And of course, Selina gets up to do just that, Damian following close behind. 

“Seriously?” 

“What can I say, I’m a proud aunt.” 

“You really shouldn’t. Just keep it in your room or something.” 

“Aww, are you embarrassed?” she answers, smiling over at him as she clips the magnets in place. “It’s good though. I’ll look at it everytime I cook. And speaking of cooking, I was thinking about making Christmas cookies. You in?” 

“I can’t. Harley probably needs some holiday cheer, and I’m not sure when visiting hours end today.” 

Selina shifts to the cabinets, getting out a thermos. “Want some hot cocoa for the road?” 

“Yes, it’s freezing outside.” Gotham has been colder than ever, and as much as Damian hates to admit it, he can’t stand the cold. He’s more used to the humidity of Nanda Parbat, even if he does spend a lot of his time away on missions. 

“I can come with you, just give me ten minutes to get the mail and put on some warmer clothes,” she says, filling the thermos and sliding it over the counter towards him. 

“There’s no mail on Christmas?” 

“Okay, so maybe I haven’t checked my mail all week. Sue me.” 

“Wow.” He takes a sip of his cocoa, “You’re a mess.” 

“Yeah, but I’m hot one.” 

“Sure,” Damian replies, stretching out the ‘r’ sound. “I’m going to get dressed.” 

By the time he’s exchanged pajamas and his new necklace for fuzzy socks and a warm sweater, Selina is back at the kitchen table with the mail and her own mug. “I think this one is for you.” 

He gives her a puzzled look before taking the now open envelope. Inside is a letter that begins with the words: 

Selina, I heard about your new friend. Please get this to him. -Ivy

The rest of the letter is directed at Damian, it talks about how she found a small riverside village full of nice locals. Once they realized what her powers were, they welcomed her and offered her lodging. She refused, preferring to stay in nature as she slowly worked through the worst remaints of the fires. 

Stuffed in with the letter is over a dozen photos. Ivy apparently discovered some new plants and wanted to document them with as many selfies as possible. Damian can’t help but smile as he memorizes the plants and their uses. He lays them all out, taking a picture of them all on his phone. 

“I didn’t think you’d be so sentimental,” Selina says, peering over his shoulder.

“I’m not. I will draw the plants and write out the information. Send it to a reliable organization.” Or keep it in the League’s library. There’s a lot of knowledge in there that the rest of the world doesn’t know about, but he’ll make enough copies to ensure that if anything like the burning of the Library of Alexandria happens again, it won’t be a problem. 

“You should show these to Harley, I’m sure she’d like to know what her girlfriend has been up to.” 

That might be a good idea, but Damian needs Harley to rely on him and not some old romantic fling. With him as her only consistent visitor, she’s grown to see him as reliable and trustworthy. “Are you sure? I want her to get better. She should be focused on her recovery, not on needing romance to be happy.” 

“I don’t know, I always thought Ivy was good for her.” 

“Harley depended on Joker for years, always went back to him even when he was abusive. He’s gone now, and I don’t want her to shift all that attention to Ivy.” Not until it’s convenient. “Once she’s more stable, I’ll ask her about Ivy and see if she’s ready.” 

Damian might be laying it on a little thick, but logical arguments always work the best. Harley is in a mental institution, he’s just putting her health first. With such a good argument, he could convince Harley herself. 

“Whatever you say. How has she been doing anyway?” 

“She’s not eating much. Seems lonely.” He glances at the clock over on the wall, checking the time. “We need to leave soon.” 

Selina grabs her coat and slips on some boots. “Should we get her a present?” 

“They don’t allow that.” 

“Oh,” they walk out the door together. “I could break in tonight and leave her something.” 

“Sure. We can ask her what she wants for Christmas.” 

As much as he appreciates Selina’s company, he won’t bring her along next time. It’s nice having cocoa to warm his insides and Selina to talk to during the hour long train ride, but this is a holiday exception. Harley needs to value her friendship with him and listen to what he says. Selina is wonderful, but Harley needs to confide in Damian and Damian alone. Plans always go easier that way. 

— - — - —

“I don’t think I’ve ever been snowed in before.” 

“It’ll get worse in January, but I already stocked up on everything, so we should be fine.” 

Damian exhales as her hands trail through his curls, cradling his head in her lap. Lately, she’s been able to coerce him into cuddling more often, which is different for him to say the least. Prolonged touch puts him on edge, but the more often Selina does this, the more he gets used to it. 

“Inconvenient.” 

She barks out a short laugh. “You don’t even do anything all day, it’s not that inconvenient.” 

“The Riddler could come out of hiding any day now. And I do things,” he responds indignantly. 

“You read and reread the same files and riddle books. A break could be good for you.” 

“I can’t take a break right now.” The next phase of his plan won’t start till the springtime, but he was hoping to catch all major criminals by then. 

She scratches at his scalp lightly, the way a person might do to comfort a cat. “Just be quiet and watch the stupid ball drop.” 

“You know, many holidays are pointless, but this one takes the kicker.” 

“I guess that means you don’t have any resolutions?” Selina grins down at him.

“If I wanted to change myself, I could do it whenever. I don’t need an arbitrary date.” 

“I would’ve gone with, ‘Stop acting like I’m better than everyone else because I don’t celebrate holidays.’ But that works too.” 

“I celebrate the ones with meaning.” 

“Like Christmas?” 

“No. I made that exception for you.” 

“I’m honored.” 

“Don’t be, I was just being polite. Respecting your beliefs and participating in them.” 

“So you don’t have Christmas with the League?” 

He sits up, scooting over to lean away. Selina eyes the movement but doesn’t say anything, probably used to it after being with him for so long. “We do. I once got an island as a gift.” 

“An island? I’ve got some serious competition. I’ll steal way more jewels next time.” It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask her what she means by next time, but he doesn’t get the chance. “Wait, I thought you said I was an exception.” 

“Yes. I’ve never given anyone else a present.”

“Why not?” 

“They don’t really want gifts in return. Just cooperation. For me to listen to their orders.” It’s actually a good system. Extravagant gifts to make him feel appreciated, telling him not to reciprocate so that they can guilt trip him for it later. He could’ve done the same to Harley, but the thought makes him go a little green. That’s more of long run plan anyway, and Harley is in short term territory for now. 

“Well, I don’t have any orders for you to follow, so I’ll settle for some more sketches.” 

“Next time.” Whatever that means. 

He reaches for the remote, unmuting the television. Gotham has its own ball drop every year, with local news channels broadcasting both it and the firework show soon after. 

“Any minute now, last chance for resolutions.” 

The TV screen shows big timer right next to the live video of the ball. “To make Gotham a better place.” 

“Come on, something for just you.” 

He doesn’t need anything just for him. Everything is fine. His training is well, the mission is going mostly to plan. 

Ten. 

What’s something the wants to do for himself?

Nine. 

“To learn more about genetic engineering,” he speaks over the count down. 

Eight. 

Seven.

She lets out a laugh with a strangled, “What?” 

Six. 

Selina is all but cackling at him, but he’s not sure why. “I’m serious.”

Five. 

“God, you’re so weird.” 

Four. 

He huffs in reply, crossing his arms to watch the television instead. 

Three. 

Two. 

One!

Just as the ball begins to descend, it bursts. 

Selina’s laugh dies on her lips, but Damian can only smile as it explodes into pieces and the screen cuts to green. Under his breath, he lets out a small, “Finally,” as the Riddler steps into view, ignoring the frown Selina shoots at him. 

Outside, the sound of fireworks going off continues louder than before. “Happy New Years,” the Riddler shouts from the screen, waving his arms with a big grin. “Now, some of you may have noticed the distinct lack of my fellow big shot criminals. Don’t worry, that just leaves more room for me. 

“And as you also may have noticed, those fireworks are awfully noisy tonight. Almost sound like bombs,” he leers at the screen, seeming particularly proud of himself. “But, oh look at the time! Best get going, but before I do, riddle me this: What has oceans but no water, forests but no trees, cities but no buildings?” 

The transmission cuts out, not having lasted long enough to track. Back on the screen is a news caster, frantically reporting about the reports of several bombs having just gone off all around the city. 

Damian can feel his heart pumping, anticipation for what’s about to come. He looks over at Selina, unable to keep the sparkle out of his eyes despite her obvious displeasure at the events. It’s been months since his last fight, and he’s already thrumming with excitement in his veins, ready to solve this puzzle. 

“Selina, do you have a map I can use?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so imma start with, no I haven’t abandoned this fic. I just have mental illness lmao. 
> 
> Everytime I tried to write or edit, my thoughts always spiraled and I couldn’t stop thinking stuff like “Wow my writing is so bad, this is horrible, why is it such a jumbled mess, is this even readable?” Yeahhh, but I’m trying. 
> 
> Comments are appreciated but not required. 
> 
> Also, I just realized that when I copy and paste the chapters to submit them on here, they don’t always keep the italics?? Might have to go back and edit some stuff to include them, darn.


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